


Charlie's Angels

by mishaskitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ... - Freeform, F/F, F/M, Hilarity, I have such high hopes for this oh god, I'm not big on heqrtbreaking angst BUT, M/M, Multi, Sass, Sexytimes, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Violence, also i dont know how long this will be, and SMUT, because it has begun, if i go there uhm... there WILL be happy endings!, oh shit, so.... yeah., somehow... damnit., squishy - Freeform, super sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:35:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaskitty/pseuds/mishaskitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie owns a strip club at which her friends dance. Its a nice big happy family, except that her only competition across town wants to bring her world down, and will stop at nothing to do it.</p><p>*Better summary is literally the first chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charlie's Angels Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> SO, here's my hand at a long fic. Yay me.  
> I have honestly no idea how often I will get to update this, my life is pretty busy at the moment but I'm writing constantly in all my extra time because I enjoy it!  
> So y'all have fun reading! Hope you enjoy!

  


Charlie owns her own strip joint called Charlie's Angels, of course her own idea, isn't it great?

The entrance is all dark cherry wood and silhouette posters for the entertainment, no actual pictures until you become a member thank you very much. 

Her clientele are the rich, the well paid, and a highly selective crowd. Members are subjugated to strenuous rules, and if broken you are given the most severe punishment one can be given: 

You are banned forever from the heaven you have been allowed to have a taste of.

Once through the application process to become a member, such as a strenuous background check, (which Charlie does herself to keep pesky, fake, undercover cops out of her glorious business), within the week updated medical charts that proclaim you to be STD free, and devoid of low life terrible drugs, you are then welcomed with open arms, if you can pay the few grand, monthly membership fee's. 

(Not to mention the money you'll throw away inside the club itself on the dancers, the drinks, the food, and the private shows. Here's to hoping you can afford them, if you've come this far, yeah?) 

The inside is richly decorated, roomy, comfortable, impeccably clean.

The food is delicious, usually served by a big, broad, salt and pepper haired cook with icy blue eyes, an easy smile, and a charming New Orleans accent. He keeps the menu up, even on the nights he's dancing.

This could be any night, since Charlie places themes on every night. Such as girls for girls, (girls only thank you, one of her personal favorite nights.), guys for guys, mix and match, frilly and flirty, leather and lightening, and so on. 

Can't give away all the surprises, right?

  


Speaking of her dancers, she employs the best, and only the best, her own friends.

A highlight of her headliners? Well, I suppose.

  


There's Bella, a curvy brunette with a swagger, a sharp tongue, a lovely accent, and big puppy eyes that will get you to give her every penny you own, as well as plenty that you don't. She dances on any night, she's not picky.

  


There's Gilda, an ethereal little woman, all soft curves and gorgeous eyes, almost fey like in appearance. She only likes women, and everyone knows that she only dances now. (No more private shows, since she's an item with the head honcho herself.)

  


We have Jo, a little blond pistol that will just as soon knock you on your ass as shake hers, so stay on her good side. She favors denim and slow music, and mostly women, but she likes the odd men here and there.

  


We can't forget our resident female angel, Anna. With blood red hair, pale skin and freckles, she's as pretty and innocent as they come when she bats those baby blues at you. Don't be caught off guard though, she's a warrior, and might surprise you.

  


We also have our own three special cougars.

  


There's Jody, always in uniform until she peels it off like a pro, showing skills she'd honed over the years. She teaches the young ones how to do it the right way. With a brunette pixie cut and vibrant green eyes, she could teach you a thing or two, too. Jody does tend to prefer men.

  


Kali, our resident destroyer, kicks ass and takes names. She's fast, furious, cold, and enjoys all the pain, yours namely, with her pleasure. Beautiful, exotic, and deadly, Kali doesn't differentiate between men and women. If you think you're up to it, you might want to put on your big girl panties and think twice, because she's a force to be reckoned with.

  


And we have one of our most famous dancers, Abbaddon. With a cascade of fiery red curls, the lips to match, and the attitude of the queen of hell herself, she makes them all bow before her. She tends to prefer her outfits all leather, and a bit of pain with her pleasure.

The word you're looking for is Dominatrix.

(The leather and lightening shows that feature her and Kali are... jaw dropping to say the least.)

  


Then we have our men. Self control please people.

  


There is, as previously mentioned, Benny. He likes to cook, but he loves to dance. He'll sweet talk you out of your pants or your paycheck, whichever he prefers. He'll be as gentle as a teddy bear, slow, strong, and easy, or a cold, methodical, predator after his prey.

  


We have Samandriel, a tiny little blonde with too innocent blue eyes and a ready smile. He's always working the floor when he doesn't dance, and in his private shows he's over eager to please and the perfect little submissive. Alfie, as he likes to be called, likes men.

  


There's Balthazar, one of our biggest tomcats. With light blond hair and ice blue eyes, the lean playboy can charm a woman at fifty paces. The purely innocent rogue uses his British accent to his advantage, and he _loves_ women, though he prefers more than one at a time. 

(If he winks and asks you what's french for twelve, don't answer unless you want to know why.)

  


Gabriel is out resident trickster, and sugar expert. The man is hell on wings, with his shaggy gold hair, whiskey colored eyes, and an ever present smirk. He's a ball of fire, super energetic, and full of jokes and cheesy lines, but if you earn one of his private shows, well.. let's just say you'll come out of it _t_ _horoughly_ debauched, exhausted, and covered in sweet things. You'll be doing good if you can make him break a sweat, but you can try. Our little archangel generally prefers men, but on the occasion has made a few exceptions.

  


Castiel is our lightening expert. He consistently sports a perfect tousle of dark hair that looks freshly bedded, sea blue eyes, full lips, and a lean runners build. His ability to bend and twist is always astounding. He goes from a shy, blushing sweetheart, to an avenging angel that will make anything in his path bow down before him and beg. He likes men and women, but seems more fond of men, specifically the other two members of his star performing outfit, 'Team Free Will'. 

There's an old joke behind that but, well, Victoria still needs a few secrets right?

  


We have our resident pretty boy, the one who turns heads in every crowd, Dean Smith. With emerald green eyes, ridiculously full lips, a scattering of freckles, ( _everywhere_.), the sexiest bowlegs you've ever seen, and dark gold spikey hair, the man is to die for. He's charming, smooth, and about as dangerous as they come to the sanity of everything within a mile of him. He can turn from a shameless, teasing flirt to a wild, feral, hunter. He only does denim, leather, and classic rock.

Be careful which side you catch hold of boys and girls, for he is _hell on wheels_.

  


Last, and certainly not least as our tallest dancer, the final member of Team Free Will, Sam Wesson. He's long, lean, sculpted like something out of a Greecian history book, and just as dangerous as the other two. Those blue green eyes can convince you of how sweet and angelic he is while he charms you out of your underwear, or tempt you to the dark side with the very devil himself. He's six foot four of prowling, gorgeous good boy, but if he turns on you, you'll think you've grabbed the very devil himself by the tail. 

He comes out paired with the superbly sexy Dean Smith petty often, and what a show those two make.

  


If you've got the fifteen grand it takes to buy it, Team Free Will does in fact, occasionally, make private shows with the three of them.

Lucky clients, those.

  


Charlie's competition across town that tries to shut her down on a regular basis is a butchering, low life, drug dealing, evil, black eyed bastard by the name Alistair. He wants her business, her dancers, and her success.

And is willing to do anything to get it.

Including getting some of her dancers hooked on some of his top level, chemically inhanced drugs. He's not above using his own dancers to lure them to the dark side, like Lucifer, Michael, Meg, and Ruby. Question is, can the dancers find a way to help Charlie when Alistair teams up with Rowena to bring her business down and close the doors for good?

And is Crowley, a private investigator that Charlie hires to bring her dirt on the opposition, really on their side, or not?

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments or suggestions appreciated!! In fact, if anyone has any music suggestions for any of the characters to dance to, TELL ME!! :D  
> They'll all get dances, and though this is gonna be a Sam, Dean, and Cas centric fic, everyone will get some spotlight.  
> Sweet baby Jesus I'll do my best on this guys! Yay : )  
> 


	2. The New guy

 

Awww come oooon Charlie! Why do we have to do thaaat theme?"

Dean slumped down into the padded chair and sulked, glaring at the redhead behind the desk who grinned at him merrily.

"Because we do the Country theme once a month for the ones who do like it, clients aaaand dancers I might add, and you know good and well if you don't want to dance that night you don't have to!"

His lower lip pouted out, but Charlie snorted at him, making him laugh.

"Puh-lease Smith, if that worked Gilda would get everything she wanted, which she does not, stop being a bitch."

Dean's eyebrow raised incredulously and Charlie actually blushed a little.

"Shut up. I said _everything_ , not most things."

He laughed and pushed to his feet, rocking back and forth with his hands on his head.

"I'll remember to go to her next time instead, but yeah, I doubt I'll dance on the whole country night theme unless I just crash it."

She rolled her eyes again, harder this time and he snorted.

"Right. Well, Sam's dancing this time, so crash his routine."

Dean's eyes lit up, and she knew she had him. Maybe she could charge double and tell the clients it would be a surprise.... nah. Let 'em get a little extra bang for their buck occasionally. They did pay her ten grand a head every month for membership, not to mention the K's they dropped every night the doors were open and they attended. 

They both looked up as Sam's head popped around the open doorway.

"Speak of the devil!"

Sam turned one of his best bitchfaces towards Dean as he crowed that one out, but Charlie smiled.

"I was gonna tell you that its almost time for your set jerk."

"That's it bitch!”

Dean shot forward and wrapped his arm around his best friend's neck, pulling the three inch taller man into a headlock and ruffling his shoulder length hair. Sam yelped and snarled, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and lifting him off the ground to bear hug him. Dean kicked at the air and yowled, laying over the other mans shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and Charlie held up her hand while she laughed.

"Guys, guys! Come on, one thing real quick, then you can take the fight out there."

They both froze and turned to her, blinking wide innocent eyes, and she shook her head. She might technically be the boss here, but these people, although some more than others, were her best friends. She would do anything for them, and everything to protect them. She shook the thoughts off and smiled.

"Just ah... I was gonna say, I'm thinking of getting a new dancer to join the men. Maybe take some of your workload off, you know?"

They both looked interested, and she sighed internally. They were amazing, really and truly, and had been a slamming, sell out, blow up hit when the two paired together... but when they paired with a third person? It blew the roof off the joint. They had tried Benny for a bit, but he hadn't fit with Sam as well. They liked each other, got along, hung out, but never together just them, that was Dean's friend mostly. Of course, nobody was more important than his 'Sammy'. The few others had done great, but again it just didn't quite fit. She knew there was one out there, she just didn't know who.

And if Charlie was anything, being extremely tough on new, she prospective dancers. She would protect her friends from anything if possible, and not hiring drugged up assholes was one of her rules.

"Do you have anyone in mind yet?"

She met Sam's curious gaze, and wondered, idly since she didn't like guys herself, just how long he could hold the other grown ass man up like that without trying. He seemed to be unaware he'd been doing it for several minutes now.

"Unfortunately no... the few apps I've taken just... no."

They both grinned and nodded at her. They knew her too well, and understood. 

"Alright, you two go on. I've got paperwork to do."

"Yes Charlie!"

"Yes Charlie!"

They chorused together at her before Sam turned and bolted off, still holding Dean up.

She laughed for a few minutes before it slid away and she slumped back in her chair, blowing out a long sigh. Gabriel was out, he'd hurt his arm in an accident on that motorcycle of his, nothing serious, but she wouldn't let him dance again until his arm and shoulder were better. He was so energetic that he might actually hurt himself, so he was taking a month off of vacation. It put her a slot short on the men, which wasn't bad, they could always go a bit longer on usual routines, or switch some around, it was no biggie, but it was her perfect excuse to continue looking for another member for the two rogues that had just been in here. Plus, starting tomorrow, Balthazar had decided to take off for a month as well. He and Gabriel were close, almost like real brothers, and he was going on vacation to keep an eye on the younger male and make sure he rested up. She could get behind that one hundred percent.

That didn't mean she was going to let her other boys work themselves to exhaustion to cover it.

 

 

 

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, and everyone's performances went highly applauded, and highly paid. The usual thing really. 

All of her angels had finally left to go home, and she was closing up, leaving through the back entrance and locking the club down. It was Sunday night, the last night the dancers would be in to actually work until Thursday, and it was two am. Her usual time to be off. But they worked like four days a week, and they all made more money than they could use, almost. 

Most of the dancers were actually going to college outside these walls, hence one of the membership rules was that outside of here, you didn't know these dancers. Sam was going to be a lawyer, one of the best, with that extremely intelligent brain of his, which had gotten him a full ride to Stanford just down the road, across town.

Charlie snatched up her briefcase, tugged her rain jacket on, and grabbed her umbrella, double checking everything as she left. All good. She stepped out the back door, staying carefully under the awning while she locked up, and punched in the security code. Then she turned, keys in hand, facing the alleyway ahead of her with a weary sigh. It was raining so hard that she could barely see ahead of her, but she popped open her umbrella determinedly, and clicked the button on her car, just about a yard away. Then she took a deep breath, damn she hated getting stuck in rain although she still liked to play in it like a little kid sometimes, and took off with a quick sprint.

Thing was, when she'd come through earlier, the alley had been empty. 

This time, she hit something and tripped, yelping out in fear as she went sailing through the air. 

"Shit!!"

She was going to break something or hit something nasty and lay here until Gilda came looking for her and-

The something she'd hit had fallen over, grunting, and then she was frozen. Suddenly, she just wasn't falling anymore. She blinked and looked down, waved her arms and finally lifted the umbrella above her again to see in the dimly lit alley. She'd tripped over a man, and the -angel- had caught her. 

_Holy shit he'd caught her._

His hands were on one leg and under her stomach, and he very carefully, as if she weighed nothing, which she was kind of light she supposed but that had been fucking amazing, and gently, sat her down. She just gaped up at him in surprise for a full minute.

Damn, he was _gorgeous_.

And seemed to be homeless.

He was a little thin, with tattered blue jeans and a big red sweatshirt that hung loosely on him. There was most of a beard grown in, with black hair slicked to his head, or it looked black anyway. He was tan, and had the facial structure that would almost compare even to Sam's. Now that was saying something. 

But he also had the most gorgeous bright blue eyes that seemed to be glowing as he stared at her, far more intently than was polite really, with full lips, kind of chapped, pressed together in a thin line, and he swallowed harshly, suddenly dropping his gaze and flushing. She barely managed to snap her jaw shut.

"Forgive me, I hope you are alright. Please do not call the police I was merely resting here for a short time, I will move on."

He was soaked to the bone, trembling she could see now as his hands fell away from her arms where he'd been steadying her, and she realized he was hot. Too hot. And absolutely gorgeous, with the most beautiful voice she'd ever heard, like satin over gravel, rumbling and completely delicious.

And he was walking away.

"W-wait! Hey!"

He stopped, halfway turning back, and she sized him up as best she could. Six two? Wide shoulders, lean, he moved like a ninja it seemed. If she could feed him and get him healthy ...

"Yes?"

Damn that voice too. 

"Are you.. homeless?"

He hesitated, those eyes shutting down into mirrors, jaw locking tight, and looked away.

"Run away huh?"

He jerked and looked back in shock, and she sent him a gentle smile, reassuring as she stepped up to him and held the umbrella up over them both. They were both soaked to the bone, but still.

"How did you-"

"I've been there, and most of my friends were too. I was just heading home, and you look like you could use a hot shower and a good meal. And some sleep..."

He stared at her in stunned confusion, seeming unable to come up with anything.

"B-but I have nothing to give you for helping me!"

She scoffed. "Did I ask for anything? Now, come on. I'm cold and hungry and don't like being either. I'm sure neither do you. Hop in my car and we'll get out of this rain."

"But I am soaked."

Even as he weakly protested he turned, following her to the car. She smiled, and knew she would get a lecture later about bringing home another 'stray' as the guys called them. But it would be halfhearted, they'd all been strays once.

"Me too. Water wont hurt anything I can't replace. Now come on kid."

He looked at her strangely as she called him kid, but moved in silence, strangely graceful as he slipped in beside her and shut the door to her little baby blue car. She was shivering now too, and she tossed her umbrella in the back as she crunk it up and cut the heater wide open. He just huddled in the passenger seat, and she didn't speak again until they were a mile down the road, safely flowing through the city traffic headed toward her lofty home on the outskirts of town, where the grouping of homes along their road all belonged to her and her friends. Most of them rented from her.

"So, when we get back, I'll show you where the shower is, and I'll heat some some leftovers for us. Benny's food is great, and he made me some gumbo the other night."

The guy meekly nodded, and she waited another moment before pushing on, softening her voice.

"So, I'm Charlie by the way."

"Castiel."

"Nice ta meet ya Castiel."

"Uhm, yes, likewise."

She beamed at him, and he seemed to relax just a tiny bit.

 

 

The next day, she had to admit, he was more stunning than before. 

She'd had him stripped to a robe when they got home and wrapped in a towel or two, since he'd almost nodded off in the car. She thought he needed food the most, so she had sat him at the kitchen table while she heated up the food and talked about all of her friends and the club she owned. 

He actually looked vaguely interested. 

He ate every drop of the gumbo, and she moved him off to one of her many guest bedrooms, leaving him to shower on his own. She came back with fresh bed linens and changed them, tossing him some flannel pajamas, told him to get some sleep, and that if he needed her for anything she was three doors down on the left. She'd see him for breakfast at ten. He'd mumbled a quiet thank you, and she'd went to her own shower and bed.

Needless to say, this morning when she turned at the sound of feet on the tile, she was glad she hadn't been holding anything. He was in the flannel pants, hanging loose on hips that were just a bit too thin, showing off how lanky he was, but with traces of muscle. He couldn't have been out for more than a week she thought. But those eyes were bright, no longer defined by the dark bags underneath, and his hair was a dark brown in stead of black, several inches long, sleep touseled and sexy as all hell. He'd shaved too, and without the beard he was even more gorgeous than she'd thought, looking younger in the daylight, but she was still thinking he had to be in his mid twenties, right at Dean's age.

"Good Morning Castiel. Man, you're gorgeous you know that?"

His gaze snapped up to her, wide and shocked, then he flushed and looked down, rubbing a hand over his chest self consciously. She cleared her throat and huffed a small laugh, turning back around to flip the last pancake onto a plate. He was friggin adorable.

"Hey don't let me bother you. I'm a bit straight forward sometimes, my brain-to-mouth filter doesn't work too well and I spout out whatever comes to mind. Here, sit down and eat some breakfast. And don't take offense or worry, I wasn't hitting on you, just sayin'."

He seemed a bit overwhelmed by her, but she had that effect, shooing him to a chair and dropping a huge plate in front of him, giving him a brief, reassuring pat on the shoulder. Poor thing.

By the time lunch came around, they had talked all morning, and after a bit she'd pulled him out of his shell and gotten some of his story. Despite even her own charming personality, she knew he wouldn't trust her with all his secrets immediately, but she got the bare bones.

He came from a gigantic family of eight siblings, with him in the middle. His mother was an overbearing, fanatical, religious nut job, father a small, meek, quiet writer who let mom run the house, and she thought everything a sin. He'd been homeschooled like the other kids, not allowed to do anything, so forth and so on. When he had decided he really and truly hated them all and didn't want to follow the college and career path they pushed on him, he had taken one of his elder brothers examples and ran out. He had, up until two weeks ago, kept up with the one brother he'd truly loved, and missed a couple of his siblings, but it was a bad family and they all fought like cats and dogs mostly. Then he'd been fired from the gas-n-sip job he'd landed, ran out of the little bit of money he'd had, and had been trying to figure out whether to just give up and die in a gutter or not when Charlie had tripped on him.

Charlie wanted to kill every single one of them by the time he was done talking, and she walked over and hugged him without thinking. He was stiff but slowly relaxed, unused to such displays she thought. Then she took a seat again and met his gaze, which was flinching around the corners, looking at him over the coffee table.

"Alright, so what do you want to do now?"

He looked down at his clasped hands, propping his elbows on his knees and mimicking her posture.

"I do not know. I am very thankful for your help though, you are a good person."

She gave him a moment, and made a quick decision. She'd gotten everywhere by listening to her gut, and right now it was one hundred percent agreeing with her.

"You want a job? A place? A home?"

He whipped his head up to look at her, wide eyed, and she smiled, gentle and reassuring.

"You'll have to work, but you don't have to dance. You can be a waiter, or help in the kitchen, things like that. You'll make plenty, and can rent a place from me or room with some of the others; they all rent from me too, and live here into the surrounding buildings. We're a family. My daddy Bobby always used to say family don't end in blood, and he's right."

"Why would you offer me this? You do not even know me."

"Well, I look at you and see a kindred spirit. I think you're meant to be one of us. There's more to it than that, let me explain."

She explained it all to him then. The way the clients were looked over, the ways they had to act. Then what she asked of her dancers, which was basically good health, get along with each other, and then the benefits: the money, housing, insurance, and a family. A safe place no matter what as long as they tried and kept themselves clean.

Just not to lie to her, no matter how bad it was.

He listened intently, and nodded when she was through.

"So,.... what do you think? Actually, first, let me call one of my boys and have him come over. You can hear it straight from the horses mouth, huh?"

He looked at her strangely, and she realized the boy, no _the man_ , had been so sheltered that he didn't get like _any_  of her pop references, hell he didn't understand most of her slang. Grief.

"Would that be okay?"

He hesitated, thought about it, and finally nodded. "Yes, that would... be nice."

She smiled and stood. "Alright, give me just a few minutes, I'll go get my phone."

 

 

 

She dialed Sam without any hesitation.

"Sup Charlie..."

"Hiya Sam, you busy?"

"Nah, what's up?"

She heard him rustling covers, getting up, jostling Dean who grumbled sleepily, and walking around. She couldn't help the fond smile.

"I need you to come over. I brought home a homeless runaway last night-"

She heard Sam's smile through the phone, and the scuffle of jeans.

"Another one? Is he older than Alfie?"

She grinned.

"Yes Sam. This one is... special though."

She trailed off, going serious, and heard Sam go still, picking up on her words.

"Is he...?"

/ _Like us_?/ She knew without the words, and she hesitated.

"M'not sure... He doesn't seem too flinchy, no bruises. By his story, he's been on the streets about a week, not too long."

Sam's sigh of relief reached her over the phone and she heard Dean mumuring in the background, then Sam's low response.

"I want you to come talk to him. I offered him a job, not as a dancer right off, I don't know if he would do that, but just a job. Room and board."

"Chaaaarlie..."

"I know, I'll run his background later, but I'm telling you.... he's special Sam. _He's one of us._  But I need _your_ touch. He's skittish, and been homeschooled in a religious fanatic family. I think anyone else would overwhelm him... We'll have to ease him into meeting everyone else."

"Hmm...that's... wow."

"Yeah. I know. Like eight siblings, one good one that he'll have to get in touch with eventually, I'll help him with that... the poor thing. Anyway, do you mind?"

"No of course not! Gimme a few minutes and I'll be up there."

"Good, thanks Sam."

They hung up, and she returned to the living room, meeting Castiel's curious gaze with a smile.

"Sam and Dean live in the next building. They're like my little brothers, I love them to death. They rent to own from me, and both dance at the club. They're amazing people, but Dean is really.. well, he's... a good man, but fiercely protective and can be gruff at first. So I told Sam to come over and talk to you. Sam can be too, but he's a giant puppy, and much gentler. You'll love him them, trust me."

Castiel nodded, and she wondered what it would take to make him crack a smile.

 

 

 

She rushed to the door and swung it open as Sam rung the doorbell, grinning at him soon as she saw him. He swept her into a crushing hug, then gently put her back down. He looked normal, all wide shoulders, lean waist, long legs, shoulder length shaggy brown hair, blue green patchwork eyes, and all around gorgeous. He'd put on a dark blue plaid shirt and jeans, showing up with his hands in his pockets, beaming at her as she stepped back.

"Thank you Sam. He's in here in the living room, come on in."

He nodded, following along behind her, all six foot four of him, and as they came back Castiel shot to his feet and stood rigid. She stepped to the side, smiling at him as Sam walked forward, gigantic paw outstretched with his best good ol' boy smile on.

"Hey man, I'm Sam. Also known as gigantor, samsquatch, too tall, etc,. Nice ta meet'chou dude."

Castiel seemed taken aback, blinking up at the other man for a moment before he shook his hand and dipped his head, eyes lightening just a bit.

"I- I am Castiel. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sam."

Sam looked a bit surprised for a moment before huffing a laugh.

"Man, super formal huh? S'okay though. Well, I'm one of Charlie's Angels, and she says you'll be joining us. Glad to have you on the team man."

Castiel looked thunderstruck. "Charlie's Angels?"

Sam turned to Charlie questioningly, and she winced.

"That's the name of my club Castiel. Its a play on the name of a movie called that, where three super awesome international spy chicks kicked ass on a regular basis. Its awesome. He's uh.. pretty sheltered Sam."

Castiel peered at her questioningly, and Sam sent him a smile, reaching out to clap his hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

"Its alright man. Come on, I'll tell you about working at the club and all the crazy people you'll get to work with."

Castiel followed his urging and sat down on the couch, so Charlie quietly slipped out, leaving them to talk while she did some laundry, made some calls, and got Castiel a doctors appointment. She wanted to make sure he was healthy, and knew a local doc that would take a look at him without charging him. Just to see him anyway, if anything was wrong that would be different, but she just wanted him a checkup. Hell, she'd be surprised if he didn't have pneumonia after trying to sleep in that rain last night.

Much later she tiptoed back through, peeking in, and saw that Sam's excited expression while talking about his friends and everything had caught the other man up in his stories. Castiel's expression was steadily less guarded, his blue eyes warming slightly, and his lips were twitching into a semblance of a smile. Charlie just grinned and moved away; she had plenty to do.

 

That afternoon, Sam came along as she brought Castiel to the club to see it. He was pretty impressed, asking a million questions about everything he could come up with. He seemed pretty interested in the stage as well, how the 'dancing' was done, and in response Sam told him all about it excitedly. 

"So get this, when we come out there is this spotlight.."

Charlie snuck off for a little bit to get a few things from her office, returning not too much later to both of them. She grinned, seeing they were still deep in conversation, terribly glad Sam had a new friend and that he and Castiel had hit it off so well.

"So, tomorrow I'll take you shopping Castiel. ....Sam, would you mind coming along to help?"

"Hell yeah, sounds good to me."

Castiel smiled lopsidedly at him, shy and a bit sheepish, but Charlie felt like she was glowing. Yeah, she'd done the right thing.

"Do you want to meet the dancers early Thursday night before the shows start?"

"I... I suppose that will be satisfactory."

"He could ah... meet Dean tomorrow, when we get back....?"

She looked at Sam and hesitated, but Castiel shrugged.

"That will be fine with me.."

Sam grinned. "Yeeha man!"

 

Charlie thought the shopping trip went super well. Sam helped him handle the personal stuff, saving her from doing it, and even though Castiel got a little embarrassed, Sam easily calmed him back down. He tried to argue, saying he had clothes at home and things, but she wouldn't hear it. She wanted him to have a few new things, and told him that when he gained back the weight he'd lost being on the street for the weeks that he'd been... lost,(He looked grateful for the way she'd said it, and afterwards was a bit more at ease.), that they would take him on a _real_ shopping spree. 

 

~~~ 

 

The next day, Castiel got to mean Dean Smith. She had tried to warn him, really she had. So had Sam.

Still, the ever curious man followed Sam's trotting path over to their shared house and up to the door, nodding along to his consistent chattering. When they reached the door, Sam could hear Led Zeppelin thumping through the floorboards from outside, and hung his head with a rueful sigh.

He turned back to his new friend, rubbing the back of his neck, his other hand on the doorknob.

"So.. just remember what I said, alright? Dean's cool, just.. kinda gruff at first sometimes. If you don't insult his music or his car, you should be fine."

At his smile, Castiel took a deep breath and nodded, straightening his shoulders and looking for all the world as if he were going into battle. Sam could barely contain his laugh, and turned then, pushing open the door.

Instantly the music poured over them both, and he realized it was one of Charlie's CD's she'd made specially for Dean. It was some of his favorite music, with everything but the main guitar riff and vocals on the track, because Dean liked to play his guitar and belt out the lyrics when at home. 

"Dean!! Ah, hang on Castiel, he could be anywhere, lemme turn this down a bit."

Castiel nodded, and Sam stepped into the living room on the left, flicking the dial on the stereo. Soon as he did the music died, save for Dean's guitar that wailed out the end of his solo, and he picked up singing, suddenly dipping off into a surprised silence. Sam scrambled back to the doorway, freezing at the look on Dean's face. 

From the looks of it, he'd skidded into the foyer in his socks while dancing and head banging. His black warlock was slung around him, hands still on the chord he'd played, favorite pair of tattered, faded blue jeans slung low on his hips, and bare chested, covered in a light sheen of sweat. His hair was everywhere, cheeks flushed, and bright eyes focused like lasers on Castiel. Sam held both hands up, looking from one to the other, and tried to figure out how to diffuse this particular bomb.

"Ah... D-Dean, this is Castiel, the new guy I told you about... Castiel, this is Dean.."

Castiel was peering at Dean intently, eyes squinted and head tilting to the side slightly. They stared for a long moment in the ensuing silence, before Dean suddenly snorted.

"T'hell kind of name is Castiel?"

Sam whipped around to give him his best bitchface, slapping his hands on his hips.

"Dean be-"

"It is mine. What was that music you were playing?"

Dean's smirk fell into slack jawed surprise, and Sam froze. 

"Dude, you don't know who Led fuckin' Zeppelin is?”

Castiel shook his head slowly, sending a quick look at Sam.

"I do not... but it was quite enjoyable... I would like to hear more of it.."

Dean's face lit up, and Sam bit his lip to hide the laughter building quickly. Then in a flash Dean had practically leapt forward, clamping a hand around Castiel's wrist, and tugged him into the house.

"Dude, I can totally do that! Come on -"

Sam clapped his hand over his mouth at the half terrified surprise on Castiel's face. Dean paused at the threshold to lean back, eyebrow raising.

"Dude, are ya coming or what?"

"Yeah, be right there."

"Sam??”

At his reassurance, Dean was gone, Castiel in tow, and Sam took just a moment to close the front door. He couldn't help stopping to lean his forehead against the wood and laugh though.

That had went much better than-

" _WHAT?! DUDE,_ were you raised under a rock?"

"O-of course not! I was raised in a Victorian style home with five bedrooms and-"

" _SAAAAM!!_ "

'I'm coming!"

He wasnt missing this for the _world_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First real Chapter! Had to put one up to go with the the intro right? Hahahahaha oh shit


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit look! Uhm, the rating went up! What the hell happened there?  
> I have no idea.... *scurries away*

A week later, Castiel was part of the guys life as if he'd always been there.  
Castiel had gotten back the weight he'd lost, started running with the boys in the mornings and working out with them, and gained more muscle than before. He was lean, tapered, solid, and had a strange grace that he moved with. He'd let his hair get a little shaggy, and no matter what he did it constantly stayed post-sex mussed.   
He was still learning music 'culture' from Dean, who drug him off to his room on a daily basis, or outside to work on baby, just showing him different things.  
Sam knew good and well that car didn't break down, Dean kept it in too good of shape, so it was all practice.  
But in between, Castiel would follow after Sam and ask about whatever he was looking through. Sam had a room that was lined with books, covered in designs, plans, and in depths views of the wonders of the world, great paintings of ancient places throughout history, and a hundred other things that Dean rolled his eyes fondly at with a grumbled 'nerd stuff'. Though Sam had caught him looking intently at several things and even noticed several of his books missing at some points, so he knew Dean had taken some to read before, even if he'd never admit it.  
But Castiel wandered into his study with wide eyes one day, sent after Sam by Dean to bring him to supper. Sam hadn't realized he'd neglected to show their new friend his domain until then.  
"Sam, Dean said that it was... time... to..."  
Looking up from the books he had sprawled across the big desk he sat at, over scribbled notes, gadgets, notebooks, pens, and other trinkets amidst the weirdly organized chaos in front of him, Sam just stared. Castiel stood in his doorway, full lips parted in quiet awe, blue eyes wide. He could feel a smile twitching as he smoothed his hands over the old book in font of him, bringing with it a fresh whiff of parchment and ink.  
"Castiel, haven't I ever shown you my study yet?"  
There was a negative shake of his head, a shaky step taken just past the interior, hands twitching.   
"I cant believe I forgot dude... well, what d'you think? Dean has his garage, and I've got my-"  
"Nerd cave."  
Sam looked back with a snort as Dean stepped into the doorway, shit eating grin in place. Castiel didn't turn, stepping to a bookcase to lightly press his hand against one shelf. When he didn't respond, Sam chuckled, opening his mouth to prod the guy further, and was cut short by Dean.   
"Hey, earth to Castiel. _Well??”_  
Sam blinked at him in surprise, noticing the way Dean leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and raised an eyebrow. His expression was placid, but those green eyes were hard, sharp on the other man as he waited on an answer. He knew that look, it was the over protective look, the edge of threatening that he could get within a heartbeat if he thought someone was going to offend Sam. Of course, Sam didn't know many people who could look threatening standing barefoot in a pair of faded jeans, shirtless, with a bright green apron that said 'I turn grills ON'; yet Dean pulled it off.  
Castiel snapped out of his trance to turn to Dean, then Sam, and started this small, shy smile as he reached up to rub the back of his neck.  
"Forgive me.. I was momentarily taken aback.. your 'nerd cave' is very nice Sam."  
Instantly Dean's stance relaxed, eyes going back to their usual warmth as he snorted and Sam laughed.  
"Yeah yeah, well come on guys, supper's done."  
Dean whirled and was out then, with only a flash of bare shoulders and the curve of his back that made Sam stare after him a moment, forgetting for a second that Castiel was standing there. He had to shake his head, turning back to see the other man had stopped in front of a painting of ancient Egypt, eyeing it with open curiosity.  
"Hey, you're welcome to borrow any of my books if you want to read them man.. its no problem."  
Castiel turned to him, looking like a kid in his first candy store as his eyes lit up.  
"Truly Sam? You do not mind?"  
"Of course not!"  
"I-"  
"Saaaaaam!!! Caaaaaas!! Move your asses or I'm not sharing!"  
Castiel's eyes went wide, as did Sam's, and they were both rushing for the door. Dean's cooking wasn't something to bicker over, the man could take down Martha Stewart with a spatula and a salt shaker.  
"We're coming Dean, damn!"  
As Sam skidded into the hallway in his sock feet, right on Castiel's heels, he heard the laughter from the kitchen.  
"Wait, 'Cas'? Where did that come from?"  
Castiel looked over his shoulder and held up both hands.  
"I do not know, he started it earlier."  
Sam couldn't help the shit eating grin then, which earned him a curious look from the other man, but he knew what it meant. Once you got a nickname, it stuck, but it meant Dean had accepted you into the circle.  
Once in the kitchen, Sam walked up behind Dean as Castiel went to refill his water from the fridge. Dean was busy putting some finishing touches on what looked like a casserole and smelled like fucking heaven. He couldn't help it, he just looked so damned delectable standing there, that Sam slotted his hips into the other mans, hands going to the curve of his waist to slide down over warm skin and settle with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. Dean went still, humming before leaning his weight back just a little, fitting perfectly against Sam like he always did.  
"Wha s'matter?"  
Dean's soft murmur made Sam's heart stutter just a little, and he pressed his smile against the crook of his neck.  
"Nothin... nothin at all."

 

Sam stepped out of the bathroom amidst a billow of steam, arching his back and stretching to almost reach the ceiling until he heard several satisfying pops in his back. With a relieved groan he grabbed the towel around his hips with one hand to hold it up, using the other hand to rough a smaller towel over his damp hair. Then he meandered toward the living room, pausing to stick his head inside to see if Dean was still there.  
He wasn't.  
Music started up in the general vicinity of their bedrooms, and Sam spun on his heel to head that way instantly. He knew that playlist, that particular CD without a single hesitation; it was Dean's music he played when he couldn't sleep, old 'power ballads' that would croon out of the speakers all night long. Of course, had Dean heard that thought he would have thumped Sam's forehead with a short snarl of, 'they're ALL power ballads, you tasteless fuck'.  
When he stopped just inside the doorway of their room, he zeroed in on Dean instantly, concern welling up that he tried to hide. Dean just turned from standing in front of the huge stereo on their dresser, sending him a halfhearted shrug and a small, almost wistful smile as Zeppelin crooned something in the background.  
"Dean...?"  
He was already walking by, miles of tanned, freckled skin on careless display as he passed. Instead of the usual lewd comment or slap on the ass, he just hummed softly, sliding a hand across Sam's bare hip.  
"S'okay Sam, just restless. M'gonna take a quick shower, go on to bed, hmm?"  
Sam could only nod as his throat closed up, glancing back as Dean disappeared down the hallway. With a deep sigh he quickly finished toweling off and finger combed his hair before sliding under the cool sheets of their alaskan king sized bed, the one they had run across that fit them both with room to spare, surprise, and burrowed under the covers. Despite his worry for Dean, his eyelids were heavy as he lay there, full, warm, freshly clean, an already tired.  
After all, were it not for Dean coming to get him at ten thirty, he still would have had his nose buried in his books, studying away. He didn't know how many times Dean had come for him once he'd fallen asleep with his head on his desk and carried him to bed. Too often, he thought. Dean had always been that way though, over protective, caring, rough to everyone else.  
Well, not always, but almost always.  
Finally, after absolutely forever, Sam heard the shower turn off. His world was dark around the edges, and not just because the room was lit only by the bright glow from the radio, giving everything a neon green glow. The last long song stopped, guitars fading off into haunting echoes, and Dean's footsteps came down the hallway, going silent as he stepped onto the cream carpet in their room. It was just a moment after the music kicked onto the next song that the bed dipped, a warm weight easing into the cold space behind him and sliding up close. He was going to open his mouth, to ask, half sleepy as he rolled over while Dean slid an arm around around his waist.  
 _/I should have known better than to let you go alone.._  
Dean pushed up on one arm, leaning over Sam with a look in his eyes he rarely ever witnessed. His breath caught, and then Dean was down, mouth pressing against his, a soft, gentle slide of lips.  
 _/It's times like these, I can't make it on my own.._  
He brought up his hands, ran them up Deans arms, felt the tremble of his muscles as that tongue made a gentle swipe over his bottom lip, asking. Sam opened instantly with a breathy sigh, arching into the calloused hands that were gliding over his chest and stomach.  
 _/Wasted days .. and sleepless nights, and I can't wait to see you again..._  
This was rare, he knew, as Dean moved over him to tangle their legs together, slotting their hips together, making his quickly hardening dick press against his stomach. A breathy moan of surprise left him at the action, because Dean was already hard, achingly so, and dripping as he rolled his hips against Sams.  
 _/I find I spend my time, waiting on your call.._  
His heart was pounding in his ears as Dean leaned back for air, rolling his hips again for that friction they both wanted, and Sam's head went back, baring his throat as he groaned.  
 _/How can I tell you, babe, my back's against the wall.._  
Dean switched to pressing kisses along his jaw, open mouthed swipes of lips and tongue and teeth in just barely there nips, enough to make Sam squirm, hissing out a breath and grabbing his hips to hold on.   
When had Dean started humming along to the song on the radio?   
_/I need you by my side, to tell me its alright.._  
There was a slow burning heat in his belly, bringing soft, desperate sounds from his throat as Dean rolled against him, hands all over, that mouth occupied across Sam's neck and collar, down with a long swipe of his tongue over the tattoo that Dean carried a mirror of on the swell of his chest in the same place.  
 _/'Cause I don't think I can take anymore.._  
Sam was already shaking, blue green eyes blown wide as he looked down at Dean, seeing his face flushed and bright eyes softened as they stared back, filled with a warmth he didn't put a name to very often. It made his breathing hitch, his chest tight, and as he reached for Dean his world upended. He just barely caught himself on his elbows, suddenly staring down at Dean as he rolled up against him, arching up to gently bite at Sam's lip almost playfully.   
_/Is this love, that I'm feelin...?_  
Sam shuddered, wanting to do something, to make him feel just as good, because he could, really, but when Dean wanted to, he could take Sam apart with little effort. It had been years, and he only seemed to get better at it.   
_/Is this the love, that I've been searching for.._  
Then Dean wrapped his legs around Sam's hips, giving only a gentle push with his hands for him to lean back enough to let him, then yank him back down. He hissed at the feeling, pushing his hands under Dean's back to splay his hands over his shoulder blades as his cock slide between-  
"Oh h-holy ffffuck Dean.."  
 _/Is this love, or am I dreaming?_  
Deans chuckle was dark, absolutely sinful as he pressed his hips back, and Sam's voice cracked.  
"S'why.. y-you took such a... long shower..."  
Deans response was an affirmative moan as he rocked again, letting the tip of Sam's dick catch him rim and press inside just barely. God, he'd already-  
 _/This must be love.._  
"Need you Sam..."  
 _/Cause it's really got a hold on me.._  
Sam's breath stopped as his eyes snapped open at those words, unaware he'd ever closed his eyes to begin with, swallowing hard to keep back the whimper. Dean tangled his hands in Sam's hair, tugged him down flush against him to kiss him, slow and languid as he rolled his hips again.  
 _/I can't stop the feeling... I've been this way before..._  
"B-but are you.. sure its....?"  
"C'mon baby boy...."  
Whispered against his lips in that rough voice, Sam shuddered, nodding almost desperately.   
"F-fuck Dean, yeah... y-yeah okay.."  
 _/But with you, I've found the way, to open any door.._  
He barely had to move, just shifted his hips a little, felt Dean loosen his hold enough to help, and lined himself up. Still, he hesitated, even through everything. What if he hurt Dean? He couldn't just -   
Hands tugged his chin up, meeting those dark eyes, saw him bite his lip as he tugged Sam closer for another kiss that was a bit less refined, more tongue and a quick press of lips through panting breaths.  
 _"Please Sammy...."_  
 _/I can feel my love for you, growing stronger day by day.._  
Sam gulped and eased forward, fingers pressing hard into Dean's back as he arched up, making a breathless whine that had Sam brushing soothing kisses along his throat.   
_/An' I can't wait to see you again..._  
"Fuck Dean, so hot..."  
He only stopped when he was buried as far as he could go, feeling Dean's nail's latched onto his arms, body bowed up in a beautiful arch, shaking and covered with a sheen of sweat. He slid his hands down to rub circles into his lower back, stroking his tongue over Dean's tattoo like he'd done earlier, hissing when Dean slumped and pressed against him.  
"C-cmon Sammy.. move.. s'okay.."  
 _/So I can hold you in my arms..._  
Sam nodded and pulled out halfway, taking in a deep breath before he thrust back in. Dean let out a groan, thighs twitching as they tightened around Sam's hips. Before he could catch his breath good Sam was sliding back again, not stopping till he was nearly out, holding it for just a moment before pushing forward again in a long, languid slide.   
"F-fffuck Sam, you gotta-"  
"Uh-uh..."  
 _/Is this love, that I'm feelin.._  
Sam kissed along Dean's jaw, lips brushing over the barest hint of stubble as he continued to thrust, maddeningly slow, relishing the friction as Dean clenched around him with a trembling whine. Sam knew he'd have scratches all over his back, maybe even down his arms, hissing as Dean bowed up to sink his teeth into the swell of his chest and squeeze around him.  
 _/Is this the love, that I've been searching for.._  
He was marking him, again, and Sam pressed a hand to the back of Dean's neck, helping hold him where he wanted to be, splaying his other hand across Dean's hips to pin them down. He got a breathless moan and half a growl in response that made him huff a husky laugh, leaning to skim his lips over the shell of Dean's ear.  
 _/Is this love, or am I dreaming?_  
Something was coiling in his belly, hot and heavy as he moved, as Dean writhed against him with long, easy strokes.  
 _/This must be love..._  
Sam knew it was as his breathing hitched and he buried his face against Dean's hair to hide the burning in his eyes.  
 _/'Cos its really got a hold on me..._  
"S-Sam...!!”  
It came out plaintive, voice cracking as Dean clutched at him with desperate, shaking hands. Sam let his pace speed up just a little, tilting his hips just so until it made Dean gasp and curse, and he panted, fingers digging in as he hit that spot, watching Dean come undone, flushed and gorgeous under him, arching and moaning his name.  
 _/Is this love, that I'm feelin?_

When they lay there together, still tangled, letting their racing hearts calm, Sam pressed his cheek against Dean's chest, listened to his heart beating. Dean stroked gentle hands through his hair, making him practically purr in response, and curled around Sam until he could bury his face in Sam's long hair, press his lips against his ear and murmur breathless words that he couldn't say in the light of day. Sam could only wrap his arms around him, pull him as close as he could get as if he were trying to crawl inside the other man, heart thundering for entirely different reasons as he listened, afraid to move further and break the spell.  
Everyday, he knew how much Dean cared for him; it was in his actions, the way he talked, the things he did. But on the rare occasion when Dean said it, Sam listened, soaked it up, felt him wrap tighter around his heart if it was possible, swallowed back the tears and kept himself from squeezing too hard, or leaping up to run around and shout it at the top of his lungs. Yeah, so maybe they had an odd relationship to other people, coming from tough backgrounds, Dean even more so, having known each other so long, being in the profession they were, and in an open relationship of sorts, but to them it was perfect.

\---

Hours later, Sam lay snoring peacefully, gargantuan limbs sprawled across the bed like a little kid, hair a tousled halo across the pillow. A slight wind curled in through the open window, bringing with it the softest strings of a guitar and just a hint of smoke tinting the otherwise fresh air.  
Out on the roof Dean reclined back against the siding, guitar haphazard across his lap, lazily plucking the strings to whatever song floated through his mind. Still strumming with one hand he raised the other to flick ashes into a little clay bowl that sat at his side, eyes lingering on the black finish, edges moulded just uneven enough to notice, with smudges of red painted fingerprints across the sides. In the center front was the metallica symbol, done by little fingers, a bright splash against the black background. On the back was written in one of those paint pens, cursive writing utterly careful, 'to Dean, from Sam'.  
God he remembered it like it was yesterday. Remembered the first time he'd met the puppy like preteen that had still had baby fat around his cheeks.  
The one who had scared the hell out of him because he'd stared up at Dean like he'd hung the stars after only knowing him for just a couple weeks. Not that he'd been the first, oh no, Dean had learned far too early to be a charmer, to survive with what he had, which had only been himself. But this time it had been genuine, innocent, and he hadn't done anything to deserve a look like that from somebody like Sam.  
And yet...  
Dean knocked his head back against the siding and heaved a sigh as memories bathed him, warming him in the slightly cool night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp!!* Who wrote that?! Ah god wtf be nice its my first attempt, I can no longer feel my face its so red.  
> Sweet freckled marco take the wheeeeeeel  
> Also... my chapter updates will likely get progressively longer..


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm... have some... flashbacks and schmoopy shit! Because I watched the guys beat Samhain on TV this morning and squealed about how a-fucking-dorable they were as babies for an hour. Again.  
> UHM there's a little violence, a few slurs, nothing major, just a heads up I guess.... 
> 
> Also, THANK YOU GUYS so much for your super nice comments! I love you guys so much omfg.

 

Another new town, another empty promise from dad, Dean thought with a curl of his lip. He slammed the front door behind him, already mad at the world.

They'd moved in yesterday, on a quiet Sunday morning in this weird little town in Texas in bumfuck suburban hell, without a single hitch. John had rented some company to move their shit, and sprang the sudden, but not unexpected, move on Dean two days beforehand. At least he had long ago learned to not get attached to these stupid towns.

This one _was_  actually different though, he'd admit.

It was a regular town, a nice little white picket fence type house surrounded by several others. John had gotten a new position, which meant he got paid more, though he'd be gone from home longer every time. Dean didn't care, he'd raised himself for the past ten years since his mothers death anyway, why the hell should he care now? At least one move a year to a new place while his dad, some kind of big wig Black Ops Marine, left him at home to fend for himself, and a new school every time. Dean was almost as surly a bastard as his dad, but at least his old man was making better money now.

Maybe he wouldn't have to - well, best not to think of that now.

Dean shuddered once, closing his eyes on a last inhale of the cigarette held loosely between his lips, and dropped it with a careless flick, stomping it under the heel of his black boots, ignoring the taste of tobacco with the remnants of his cereal. He rolled his neck once, thinking about what he needed to get from the grocery store tonight, slipping his smokes back into the metal case, tucked his zippo securely in his pocket, checked himself for everything he'd need by the time the damn bus got here. Wallet, check, slightly oversized, well worn, comfortable leather jacket from dad, check, faded metallica T-shirt, check, blue jeans,check, cassette player in pocket, headphones around his neck, check, attitude?

Dean cracked the knuckles on his right hand and curled his lip, reaching up to check his hair once more before stepping off his door step and swaggering down to the sidewalk and stopping by the cheerful bus sign, all alone, a few minutes early, thumbing the volume up on the speakers settled around his neck to let Back in Black rumble out into the quiet morning.

Check.

A door creaked open one house over, and he leaned a shoulder against the pole, crossed his feet at the ankles, and thought seriously about lighting up another one. He sighed at the murmur of a motherly voice and the excited scramble of steps heralding the arrival of a small kid calling a goodbye to the mother. Best not, he thought, he didn't know yet who would rat on him, and who wouldn't. He wasn't supped to be smoking, he was only sixteen. Well, fifteen for another three months, but he may as well be sixteen.

Staring off into the distance, he heard the front door close and the mad dash of feet again cutting across the lawn next door. The neighbours, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. Then the steps came to a skidding halt with a gasp, and he ignored it. 

He wondered, never looking, until the steps edged closer, and he heard the deep breath that he knew was the kid steeling themselves up to speak.

"H-hi! M'name's Sam."

Dean couldn't quite help the smirk. Kids got guts after all, he thought, turning his head to see. Then looking down, like, way down. 

It was like someone had punched him in the gut.

The kid was lanky, too long limbs trying to grow from the thin body, a definite preteen he thought. Shaggy chocolate hair, half curling around a face still edged with baby fat. But as he looked down, the biggest goddamned eyes he'd ever seen stared up at him, a liquid patchwork of blues and greens, reminding him of the one time he'd seen the ocean years ago. The kids hands were tight around the neon blue straps of his ridiculously huge backpack, which seemed to weigh as much as the kid did, surely, and he wore blue jeans with a dark blue shirt.

Damn the kids eyes though.

He had to clear his throat, wipe his face back to its usual bored expression.

"'Sup."

The kid lit up as if he'd handed him ice cream, and Dean's posture tensed, a little wary suddenly.

"Did you move in next door? I bet you're my new neighbour momma was talkin' bout!"

He stared at the kid a moment, heard the bus turn up a nearby street, and thought fuck it.

"Yeah, s'me."

" _Just_ you?!"

Sam cried out, all big eyed and awed, as if Dean were the coolest kid in the world right now. It made him snort and turn away. Fucking kids.

"Nah kid.. dads around too... occasionally."

He muttered the last part, shrugging as if it didn't matter. Which it didn't anymore.

Still, John's voice rang in his ears from when he'd left out at two thirty that morning.

/"Last move for a while Dean, this is a good job. Better money, better home, better school. Don't fuck this up, alright?"

"Yes sir.."/

"That's okay, I only have my mom. But shes the greatest!"

Dean twisted to see the kid again, eyebrow raising.

"Sure kid. I bet..."

Sam just beamed at him, and Dean rolled his eyes to keep from laughing. They stood in silence with the kid wiggling all around in excitement until the bus came up. He tore up the bus steps without a thought, and Dean eyed the bus driver as Sam disappeared into the noisy interior. He was old, a trucker cap settled on his head, thick beard and blue eyes, in a flannel shirt and jeans stained with grease. He stared at Dean a moment before scowling.

"Well kid, ya gettin in or what?"

Dean half smiled, hell, he liked this guy already.

Then he wiped his face as the old man looked off, and stepped up, pausing at the front to glance across the sea of faces. Some of the guys looked him over, assessing, some looked curious, others already sneering, and some of the girls stared, leaning over to giggle with their friends. Those, he curled his lips at, smirked as he sauntered down the aisle with his hands in his pockets. He passed a seat with three rows of guys, some of those preppy, too good snot nosed brats, and ignored them. Until one slid their foot into the aisle as he started to pass. Without missing a beat, he winked at the next row of girls, stepped over the foot and stomped the ankle. The dude howled, and Dean paused to bat his eyelashes at him innocently.

"Aw, sorry man, didn't see ya there."

The guy snarled, red faced, but Dean was already moving, rolling his eyes, and flopped down into the empty backseat, back against the window with his leg bent, foot in the seat as he looked out. The bus started off, and he sighed, pressing his forehead against the window.

Another year, another school.

 

 

Over the next couple days, Dean charmed all his female teachers, out scowled the male teachers, and avoided the principle like the plague after the only visit he had to make, which was the first check in. At least John had set his shit up already.

He saw Sam every morning, who always bounced up, eager and bright eyed, and talked ninety to nothing while Dean nodded along. Even passed the kid in the halls a few times, giving him half a nod of recognition when they passed, but otherwise nothing.

Didn't want the kid in the crossfire, he thought. No trouble yet, but he was the new kid, fresh meat. It would only take the other stupid kids a little while. One would bow up eventually.

There was always a test. Always.

 

On Wednesday afternoon, after school while he surfed the television for something worth watching, a knock on the door had him rolling to his feet. Dad's training took over, the shit he'd had drilled in his head everyday, every hour in his fathers presence; the lessons, discipline, skills, everything. He had the 1911 off the coffee table, hands seating the magazine, making sure there was a round in the chamber as he flicked off the safety with his thumb, pointed it toward the floor with his finger off the trigger as he moved. He kept his steps slow, steady as he slid down the wall, watched the shadow under the door, and stepped up quick at the next set of light, polite knocks.

Looking through the door, he saw a woman he didn't know, arms wrapped around some covered baking dish, looking down with a warm smile. He registered the sound of Sam's exited rambling, half surprised he already knew the kids voice so well as he tucked the gun in the back of his pants and yanked his shirt down over it before taking a deep breath and swinging open the door.

The woman turned, white dress fluttering in the light breeze, soft blond hair a halo around a face that was too kind, too warm as she smiled, an older echo of Sams, and her blue eyes were bright, gentle as they focused on him.

"Hello there, I'm Mary. You must be Dean."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, glanced down as Sam rocked on his heels, tiny arms wrapped around something else in aluminum, cradling it reverently, big eyes locked on Dean's with pure excitement.

"Hey Dean!! This is my mom!"

"Yeah.. I see that kid. Ah, can I help you? I mean.. dads not home so.."

Mary smiled, this weird, soft thing that screamed motherly, and made Dean have a pang of sadness for his own mother for just a heartbeat.

"Well that's okay.. Sam-"

" _MOM_!!"

They both looked down as Sam screeched indignantly, face flushing red as he leveled one of the beat bitch faces Dean had ever seen up at the woman, huffing pointedly. Mary choked back and laugh and looked at Dean again, blue eyes dancing.

"Ah, I meant, -Me and- Sam wanted to make something for you. He's talked about you a lot since you moved in-"

"Mooooom!!"

Sam hissed in warning, the tips of his ears going red, and Dean couldn't help the smirk lighting up his face.

"-sooo, we brought you some dinner."

"Dinner??"

Dean perked up, eyes going wide, and she laughed. The sound was like music, making his stomach clench, and Sam looked up at Mary with the goofiest smile in the world. Yeah, Dean thought, he would too.

"Yes. Its just a casserole that I make, but Sam, ah... _we_ came up with the idea last minute to bake extra and bring some over. Well, and Sam decided to share his pie with you. Hope you like homemade apple pie..."

Dean's jaw dropped as he stammered. "P-pie??"

Her eyes lit up with laughter and she held out the dish, which he took from her carefully as possible with wide eyes, stumbling over his manners.

"I-I but I - are you sure? I mean-"

"Of course sweetie. Now, Sam, help him with that one, don't make him carry it all himself."

"Yes momma!"

She took a step back, sending Dean another smile as she tilted her head.

"I have to head back, I have laundry going. But you're welcome over at the house anytime Dean. I know you've got your homework done Sam, so you can visit a few minutes and come on back, okay?"

Sam seemed nervously suddenly, giving his mother big, pleading eyes that she pretended not to see as she moved down the steps with Dean still stammering.

"But... well, th-thank you!"

She waved them off and moved away, and Dean looked down at the red faced kid who stood on his doorstep, staring pointedly at the ground. Then he spun on his heel and headed inside, already trying to remember where he'd put the dishes. And the silverware. They had silverware didn't they? Yeah.

"Hey - ah..."

He turned, expecting the boy behind him, and trotted back to the doorway, looking down the hall where the kid stood at the front door, shifting from foot to foot.

"Dude! What're you waitin on? Get in here!"

Sam flinched and whipped up to see him, then burst into a bright grin and bolted inside. Dean rolled his eyes and turned back, calling out as he did.

"And close the friggin door!"

There was a scramble of steps, then retreating ones and the slam of the door, a muffled curse, and then sheepish quick steps back to the kitchen. Dean turned with a plate in both hands, raising an eyebrow as Sam stretched to put the aluminum tin on the counter.

"Did'jou eat yet?"

"N-no...?"

He snorted and dug around for something to serve them with, nudging the frozen kid out of the way with his hip.

"Well c'mon then, she said you could stay for a bit."

"A-alright!!"

He didn't have to turn to see the huge smile, he could hear it, and wondered why he already knew the kid well enough to know.

 

 

 

Over the next couple of weeks, he damn near became a fixture at the Wesson house. Or vice versa.

Oddly enough, after the first time he'd asked a curious question about what Mary was making in the kitchen, and she had shown him one thing, he'd found excuses to wander inside after that.

Learning how to cook.

It was survival damnit, for whenever he had to move again.

That was all.

At school, Sam would happily follow him all over in between classes, always wait for him at the bus. Only giving him his patented bitchfaces when he saw Dean flirting with the girls, rolling his eyes so hard as they blushed and giggled that Dean swore something would pop.

It was nice though, for once.

That's why he was expecting it, sort of, when something finally gave.

Only, he expected it to be aimed at him.

 

 

Nearly a month had went by. He expected his fathers appearance anytime now, any day, and was already on edge, waiting.

On Friday, he walked out of school, arms crossed as he leaned against the pole, and waited. The other kids swarmed along where the buses all lined up, jostling to board first, but he waited. 

The final bell rang, only one or two kids running along behind while the older ones began heading towards their cars. It made him straighten, stomach tightening with worry.

Where the hell was Sam?

He sent a look up at the bus driver, Bobby, he'd learned the name, who looked back over the bus once and shook his head.

Sam was _never_ late.

Before he could register what he was doing he had whirled, and was sprinting for the school, lungs seizing with terror without a real reason. 

Maybe he'd just stayed over talking to a teacher, being a damned nerd again. Maybe he'd actually picked up more of Dean's snark than he'd noticed and used it, getting detention.

He burst through the doors at the far end of the school, heaving for breath already, eyes too wide as he searched frantically. His heart was squeezing too hard, and he tried desperately to remember what class the kid had last period. What the hell had it been?!

There was a burst of laughter, mocking enough to catch his attention, and a high pitched cry of anger.

"Hey thats MINE!!"

He knew that voice, and he was running before the thought fully formed. Fucking gym class, big jock assholes, he knew it as he rounded the corner of the big square building, quiet enough that the idiots didn't hear him. Four of them, clustered around a tiny Sam who was trying to shove his books, his precious fucking three ton books, back into his bright backpack. Cheeks red with temper and humiliation, shaking. -On the ground. -

He had to breathe, count to ten, because if he didn't, he would do something very, very bad. Calm down, he thought, reach for that snarky calm, get their attention off Sam, make them charge you-

"Get up you fuckin nerd, stand up like a man."

"Just leave me alone you neanderthal!"

The others snickered, and the front boy, Will he thought the name was, snarled. Then he leaned down, grabbed Sam by the collar and lifted him, grinning as Sam snarled and flailed against the hold.

"Where's that fucking pretty boy huh? The one you keep following around like a little bitch?"

"Fuck you!"

It made Deans jaw drop as Sam yelled the curse at the boy, lifting his chin and staring at him defiantly. Pride swelled in Dean's chest, suddenly quenched by white hot rage as Will shook Sam like a wayward puppy, hands tightening around his collar until Sam gave a choked cry. 

Before anything else, Dean was lunging forward like a blur. Sam's eyes snapped around at the movement, going wide then relieved at seeing Dean. It made his chest tight as he barked out an order.

"Down Sam!"

Instantly the younger boy wrenched back, using the older boys surprise to get free, and hit the ground. Will turned, mouth opening to make some stupid remark, only to be rocked backwards as Dean planted a foot and came up and around in a roundhouse kick, slamming his boot into the asshole's face. Will yelped out, high pitched as he stumbled back and grabbed his nose when blood poured. He landed on his hip, eyes teared up and furious as they locked on Dean.

"What was that? Pretty sure I just heard a little _bitch_  scream for me."

Will hissed, Sam yelped in warning, and Dean cringed just in time to get sucker punched in the cheek by asshole #2. He stumbled, saw Sam bolt up, caught by asshole #3 by the scruff of the neck and held back from leaping in. Dean laughed, a dark curl of sound as he wiped the back of his hand across his lip and fixed his gaze on #2, who flinched.

"Is that all? Hell, I can do this all day!"

Will stumbled to his feet, rushed forward with a garbled cry, and Dean grabbed his arm, swung him around and into the other one. When the second one bent in half, wheezing as his friends head slammed into his stomach, Dean brought up a knee and crashed it into his face. Blood poured, and the kid dropped as Will turned, ready for more until Dean dropped to the ground, spun on his hand and swiped the legs out from under them both. They hit in a tangle of limbs, and Dean straightened, moved forward and stomped his heel down on Will's throat. His heel thudded against the ground and he held back without stomping the boys windpipe, just threatening it before he pushed down instead, leaning over with one arm across his thigh while Will wheezed and the others froze.

"Now listen to me, you douchebag."

Will finally stilled, heels digging into the ground as Dean pushed harder, watched him go just a little blue before letting off. Now he had his attention.

"If I ever see any of you messin' with Sammy again, so much as lookin at him wrong, I'll rip your goddamn lungs out. Understand?"

Will nodded, and Dean looked up at the other two. Number three very carefully sat Sam down, who jerked away and began fussing over his shirt, staring down as Dean let Will up.

"Now get the _fuck_ out of here."

The other two scrambled to get Will up and took off, one limping and two bloodied as they raced off. Dean forced himself to breathe, let go of the terrible tension and rage in his gut, and dropped to one knee to help Sam grab his books.

"Fuckin' pricks..."

Sam nodded stiffly, gathering his stuff with wobbly hands, thin shoulders shaking. Dean looked at him, uncomfortable, clearing his throat. Please don't be upset-

"Hey, you okay?"

Another nod, a poorly disguised sniffle, and Dean heaved a sigh. He reached out and caught Sam's chin, bringing him up and around despite the slapping hands and indignant squawk.

But it was too late, and Dean focused on the splotchy face, red nose, and crocodile tears leaking down the kids cheeks as his eyes wavered, chin quivering as he tried to straighten up and pretend he -wasnt crying-.

"Sammy, answer me buddy, did they hurt you?"

"N-n-no..."

Dean let out a relieved breath and slid his fingers through the shaggy hair, settling onto both knees to steady himself, and opened his other arm.

"C'mere... s'okay now.."

He cut off with a grunt as Sam hit him, tiny arms weaving past his leather jacket to try and wrap around him, burying his face against Dean's chest with a choked sound. Dean went still, then swallowed past the lump in his throat as he stiffly patted the kid on the back. After a moment he let himself run his fingers through that soft hair again, relaxing as Sam did, and held him until he had finally quieted. Gently he pulled the kid back, brushing away the tracks on his cheeks, and settled a hand on both shoulders.

"You want me to go kick their ass again?"

Sam hiccupped and shook his head, but Dean thinned his lips.

"I will. I'll run them up the flagpole by their underwear."

Sam's eyes went wide and his lips twitched, but he shook his head.

"C'mon it'll be funny, I'll even put itching powder in their shorts first."

Watery laughter burst out of the kid, making him slap his hands over his mouth to hide it, and Dean halfway grinned, but there was another wild shake of his head.

"Alright fine... well, how about we head home.... and maybe stop for ice cream?"

Sam's eyes went impossibly wide, and Dean grinned.

 

 

Since they only lived two blocks from the school, by the time they had stopped at the drive-in sonic, Dean ordering himself a huge chocolate cone with sprinkles, and Sam a smaller one of the same since the kids eyes had lit up in awe, it wasn't too late. Sam had wanted a big one, but Dean didn't want his ears boxed by Mary for ruining the kids supper. The kid was eleven, Dean thought he'd be fine, but his mom didn't agree, and she could be scary as fuck.

So side by side they walked up in the yard, only minutes after the bus passed. Mary was still on the porch, arms crossed as she stared after the bus with a puzzled expression. She whipped around after catching sight of them, sharp eyes going over both of them, and Sam's sticky face, before she relaxed and propped her hands on her hips.

"Dean!! What have I told you about ruining his supper!"

Sam bounded up on the porch with a plaintive whine, but Dean gave her a charming smile, batting his eyelashes as she laughed.

"It was only a small one!"

She shook her head and shooed them both inside, catching Sam's bag to set it inside the kitchen doorway.

"Alright Sam, off to the shower."

"But mooooom Dean's here!"

"Then Saaaaaam you shouldn't have gotten so filthy at school today! Now go shower and change! Hurry up!"

Sam stuck out his lower lip, giving her his best puppy eyes, and Dean instantly caved. Damnit. But Mary only laughed and swatted at him.

"Boy, I taught you that! Go on now, you're wasting time! Dean can help me finish supper."

Finally he turned and bolted off, and without a word Dean followed her into the kitchen. He paused by the table though, listening to Sam's feet slapping around upstairs, and stared at his own feet while he rubbed his neck sheepishly.

"Look uhm.. m'sorry we were late... ah.."

There was a thump and click, and then she had hold of his chin, a gentle pressure as she raised him up to see her, blue eyes softer than he'd ever seen them before. She was inspecting his cheek, and he let out a curse, having forgotten that one asshole had got him.

"Shit-"

"Language..."

"S-sorry... but its-"

"Dean."

He zipped his lips then, hissing and only flinching a little as she came up with a cotton ball with alcohol on it, the smell pungent this close, dabbing it against what must have been a cut where he'd gotten hit. It made his eyes burn, because he remembered his mother being this way. His dad would have thrown the field kit at him and told him to take care of it unless it was so bad he couldn't stitch it up himself.

Mary cleaned for a moment before she swiped something across it that smelled thickly of mint and brought to the skin to a cold, tingling sensation as she stepped back and nodded. They stared at each other a moment before she spoke again, arms crossed.

"How do the other boys look?"

It caught him off guard but he snorted, lips curving up. "Worse."

"Good."

She turned then, putting up the kit and taking the little white box back to set it above the fridge. Still, guilt gnawed at him, the thought of Sam hanging there, what could have happened, those tears still damp on his shirt-

"I'm sorry.."

"...for?"

"They... had Sam.. because of me. Were gonna beat him up, cause he hangs out with me... he's fine but-"

"I know he is."

He whipped up to see her, wide eyed, hands mottled into fists. "Wh-what?"

"I knew he was fine Dean, the moment I saw he was with you. I know you'll take care of Sam, I trust you. You're a good boy Dean..."

He felt like he couldn't breathe, chest too tight, but she just smiled.

"Now come on, help me set the table. Sam will be back in just a few minutes, and he'll be starving."

"Y-yes ma'am..."

Still stunned, he followed along, deciding to try and lighten the mood.

"He -does- eat like a moose, doesn't he? Must be growing some, fiiiiinally."

She laughed, turning to hand him a small stack of plates, and reached out to lightly thump him on the forehead.

"He -is- growing! And you better watch it, he'll be taller than you one day if you're not careful."

"Psssh, no way!"

 

\-----

 

Dean snorted, taking one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it out on the bowl and sighing, letting the smoke billow out.

The little brat was taller than him now after all.

"Dean...?"

At Sam's soft voice, he jerked into motion, slipping quietly over the roof to get closer to the window. Sam's voice was groggy as he stumbled out of bed, and Dean heard him shuffling out into the hallway.

"Deeaan...?"

Soon as he was out of sight, Dean slid back in through the window, feet silent on the ground as he scurried over to the bathroom, and closed the door loud enough for Sam to hear. He gave it a beat before moving toward the doorway.

"Where'd ya go Sam?"

"Dean... where were you?"

Sam staggered back around the corner, blinking slowly at Dean, reaching up to cover a yawn.

"Was in the john.. go back to bed baby boy.."

Sam hummed, turning on his heel and meandering back toward the bed. Dean sighed, followed along to huff a laugh and pull the covers up over Sam. When he went still with a long easy sigh, Dean turned, intending to go get a drink, and had to pause at the sudden pressure on his wrist.

"Whas'a matter Sammy?"

"Come back to bed Dean..."

He softened, shoulders drooping as Sam turned to look up at him, puppy eyes shimmering up at him pleadingly. It made him snicker, standing there in the dark like that, and he gave in. 

"Alright, alright..."

Instead of going around, Dean clambered up on the bed, climbing over Sam, hands and knees and elbows flying as Sam yelped then began fighting back while laughing. 

"D-Dean stop, ah-ah ha ah- st-stop you jerk!"

Dean's back hit the bed on his side, both of them out of breath and grinning.

"Shut up bitch, you told me to get back in the bed."

"Not over me!"

"You didn't give specifics."

Sam huffed and rolled over, gargantuan limbs sprawling over Dean like tentacles, pulling him close and squeezing. Dean belted out a laugh and wiggled around until he could tug the blanket up, and finally relaxed despite Sam's weird hold. Yeah, so maybe they'd been doing this a while. So what?

 

\-----

 

Dean flicked his wrist, tossed the pancake up, yawned as it landed in the skillet with a sizzle, golden brown on top save for the little blue specks of blueberries scattered throughout. His coffee was calling his name, but he was almost done, and if he turned his attention away, he'd burn his perfect pancakes. He hated fucking burnt food.

Footsteps padded down the hallway as he flipped off the oven, taking a moment as he slid the pancake on the already leaning tower of the others on the wide plate to critically eye the stove. All their appliances were new, shiny chrome edged in black, and most of the metal surfaces in the room were covered with magnets.

Some very weird ones too, everything from topless chicks to cartoon food and snarky sayings. Thanks Gabriel, he thought with a snort, holding the hot skillet farther away out of habit seconds before Sam slipped his arms around his waist. 

"Good mornin sunshine."

Sam snorted, hooking his chin over Dean's shoulder to peek at what he'd made.

"Mornin... wha'sat?""

"Rabbit food crap, Dean Smith style. Your favorite."

He didn't have to be able to see Sam's eyes, knowing how they instantly lit up as his hands twitched on Dean's hips and he groaned.

"Oh my god dude-"

"Yep, so sit your ass down and let's eat."

Dean snatched up the syrup and cream, turning around as Sam plunked down at the table. Those eyes slid from Dean's feet up and went mischievous, lips quirking.

" _Yes sir_...."

He stumbled, felt his stomach lurch, and sent Sam a warning look.

"Sam..."

He just blinked, slow and innocent, and Dean slammed the can on the table. Sam threw his hands up, eyes going wide as he sputtered.

"I-I was just m-messin Dea-ee-aaah!"

Without another word Dean threw a leg over Sam, straddling his hips where he sat, looking down as he slid a hand into that mane of hair, twisted and jerked back. Sam hissed, going perfectly still as Dean pulled him back by his hair until he bared his throat, then leaned down excrutiatingly slowly, green eyes snapping sparks. Sam's throat bobbed as he swallowed convulsively, unable to help the shudder as Dean lay a hand against his shoulder, smoothed it up until his hand curled around the base of Sam's throat. He paused there, feeling the pulse beating frantically against the pads of his fingers, dropped his voice to a growl just the way he knew drove Sam crazy.

"What was that?"

His lips formed the words, teeth snapping on each syllable, pressed his fingers just slightly and twisted his wrist. It tugged Sam's hair tighter, pushed just so against his wind pipe, and Sam flat out whimpered. Dean chuckled, a dark rumble of sound as he rolled his hips a little, leaned farther down as Sam's hands came up to grab at his thighs. A scrape of teeth earning him a hiss, quick twitch of Sam's hips, and Dean lowered his voice to a low whisper against his ear.

"That's what I thought you said."

Sam gulped, watching with glazed eyes as Dean moved back, sauntered over to the sink to pick up more plates as if nothing were amiss, and come back. When he sat their things down, including a steaming cup of coffee in front of Sam in his mug just the way he drank it, he picked up his fork and paused. Sam was still gripping the table, breathing too fast, too shallow, and Dean raised his eyes slowly, sending him a look that glinted with something dark that seemed almost out of place in the bright kitchen.

"Eat your breakfast Sammy."

He jolted, and finally swallowed, moving to continue on with breakfast like nothing had ever happened, hands just a little shaky. Dean bit his lip to hide the smirk. 

He still had it.

 

 

 

Sprawled lazily across the couch, limbs tangled while they watched whatever was on television, Sam twisted to look up at Dean. He never looked away from his channel surfing, just raising an eyebrow as a prompt for the kid to spit it out, and saw his lips twitch.

"So.. I was wondering..."

When he trailed off, and no more seemed forthcoming after a full minute, Dean heaved a sigh and muted the tv, dropping the arm with the remote to the couch to look back.

"About what?"

"Well.. you wanted to give Cas time to get adjusted... and not take him straight to the club, or ah, what was it, the lions den, you said?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, so?"

"When do you think he'll be ready to meet everybody?"

"Hell Sam I dunno... maybe we should take him tomorrow night. Everybody will be relaxed, just there practising... and he can get used to the rest before Gabriel and Balthazar come back next week."

"That's... probably a good idea."

"Pfft, no shit. I cant wait to see the look on his face.. poor Cas. It takes a lifetime to get used to those two."

Sam started to laugh, and Dean shoved him.

"Says the old man."

"Th'hell did you just say?!"

"You heard me, -old ma-Ow!!"

There was a loud thump as Sam hit the ground, looking up with a wince as he landed and glared at Dean who primly retracted his foot and sat it back down on the couch regally. 

"That's it!"

"You better no-"

Dean cut off with a yelp as Sam grabbed his ankles and yanked. They went tumbling, rolling and snarling across the floor in a mass of flailing legs and swinging arms. Dean came out on top and grinned down at Sam.

"Pinned ya!"

Sam heaved, and Dean sprawled across the floor, barking out a laugh as Sam rolled into a crouch and tackled him. They rolled until they hit the far wall and came back, grappling, whipping up elbows and ducking amidst the curses. Sam's back hit the floor again, and Dean dropped onto him, hands on his chest, straddling his hips as he grinned down victoriously.

"Pinned ya'gin."

Sam snorted. "Dude, did you just quote the lion king? -Twice-?!"

"Its a fucking classic man!"

Sam started to laugh, and Dean ground his hips down, making him cut off as the air punched out of his lungs.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the sound of your-"

They both froze as someone cleared their throat, and they sprang apart like they'd been burned. Dean rolled into the coffee table, slapping his hands on it as he whirled to see, and Sam staggered to his feet, blushing furiously.

"Uh h-hey Cas, sorry man.. didn't know you were there..."

The guys eyes were wide, cheeks dusted with pink as he stared at them, both shirtless and with several marks from the past night, and seemed to be unable to find anything to say. 

"Imma put a fucking bell on you man! Holy christ..."

Castiel frowned at Dean, then at Sam, and finally cocked his head curiously, eyes raking over Sam.

"Did... you get into a fight Sam?"

When Sam choked and tried to come up with something to respond with, Dean slumped against the coffee table to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. Well, that, and to slide the gun back into the holster hidden behind the lip of the table underneath, fingers quietly clicking the safety back on. Neither man seemed to notice, and Dean swiped a hand over his face.

Damnit.

Deciding to save Sam, he pushed to his feet and waved a hand to catch their attention.

"So me an Sam decided you're ready to meet the crew tomorrow. You ready?"

There was just a moment where blue eyes landed on him, squinting ever so slightly before recognition dawned and they lit up.

"You mean - y-yes! I am quite ready!"

Dean snorted as Sam sighed in relief.

"That's what you think Cas, but its okay, we got your back."

"My.. back?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first, thank you guys so much for reading! And for the lovely comments! I'm having fun writing this and I'm really glad people are enjoying it.
> 
> I made some art that was supposed to be the posters for the club that hang in the lobby! They're mine so its kinda amateur truthfully lol, but they turned out okay I think. I'm planning on making a few more, so maybe we'll have one for each chapter till I'm done. Woo! Lol 
> 
> And tuick update... they'll get longer. ^.^;;

 

 

The steady rumble of the Impala cut out, finally, leaving them in a tense silence in the aftermath. The entire way over, Castiel had asked as many questions as he could, and in between his bouts of laughter at most of Dean's answers, he answered a few himself for the curious man. Sam turned to look across the seat at Dean, who sent him a mischievous smirk, and then they both turned to look at Castiel, who sat rigidly in the back seat, dead center, leaned up to hear them over the purr of the car and metallica.

Or had been. 

When they turned it was to see Castiel had scooted over to see, cerulean eyes enormously wide as he stared agog at the building before them. Sam was sure he would be pressed against the window like a little kid if Dean hadn't given him the speech earlier about smudging his precious baby.

"So, what d'ya think Cas?"

He twitched at his name, slowly prying his eyes away to look at them.

"I do not... know what to say. Are you certain we are in the correct place? This does not... _look_  like a house of ill repute..."

Sam choked, and Dean's jaw dropped for three full seconds before he slapped a hand on the seat with a crack that made them both flinch and pointed a finger at Castiel.

"Do you know what a "house of ill repute" looks like?!"

"W-well no but-"

"Is there some rule that says they _all_  have to be filthy, disgusting, wretched places where you get free fleas and a new STD with every visit?!"

"I - I do not-"

"Then don't act like it looks fucking wrong!"

"Dean.."

Sam's voice was low, and Dean snapped around to look at him, fae softening as he hesitated, then rolled his eyes and sniffed.

"You know what I mean. Look, m'goin on in, you... you tell 'im the rules."

Then he was swinging the door open with its familiar creak, still pausing to close it gently before shoving a hand through his hair and starting around the car. Sam watched after him with a sigh before he turned back to Castiel. The guy was white, blinking slowly in confusion, and looked almost on the verge of freaking out.

"Look Cas its cool.. Dean's just touchy about a few things man, you didn't know. He'll cool of in a few, okay?"

He swallowed and dipped his head in a slight nod, eyes tracking back over to the building. Sam took that as a good sign and finally unfolded himself from the car, giving the guy a gesture so he would get out too. Castiel stumbled a little, hanging on the door as he stared up at the building, sending Sam a wide eyed look and vague gesture like he was at a loss.

"Its somethin, ain't it?"

Cas nodded, and Sam tucked his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the car to send a glance across the parking lot. He wasn't as paranoid as Dean, not anymore, but well, old habits died hard.

He felt safe here, of course. After all, Charlie had taken plenty of precautions for several reasons. For those who asked, it was because her performers needed their privacy, and she didn't want them jumped by paparazzi or anything like that. As for the rest of them who didn't have to ask, because they knew, it was first and foremost a security precaution because many of them had come from rough backgrounds.

Some of them more than most.

A light breeze carried across the lot, lifting Sam's hair and making him let out the tense breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Yeah this place was like a second home. 

The lot was paved, outlined in simple lines, and had plenty of room with three rows for about eight cars each. Around the black asphalt was at least three foot of grass, and towards the back was a small lot where Charlie had planted several trees and flowers, interspersed with a couple tables, wooden chairs, and since they were all three years old, a gigantic swing set. 

And yes, it was played on regularly.

Around the lot was a thick brick wall, painted a cream color on the inside, about twelve foot tall he thought. The gate was solid, much sturdier than those rolling aluminum ones, and always had a guard sitting on duty when the club was open or during the days they practised. Of course, they all had a remote that made the gate open once they punched in the code, so they old get inside when they wanted. It was a pretty good set up really.

As far as the building itself, well, Charlie was a genius and they all knew it.

She had bought out a luxury hotel that had sported three floors of spacious, top of the line, polished rooms that had full amenities, settled in a half circle around the ginormous, two story club itself which was centered in the front. 

The entire thing was mostly black and silver glass, one of those buildings that made everyone pause to look with wide eyes and awed breaths. There was a front parking lot, which parked well over three hundred cars at a time, splayed out between it and the highway, with only one or two islands of greenery in between. It was currently empty, but when it was show time, the place would be packed, limos and bright, shining cars lined under the awning where valets would park the vehicles for those too good to do it themselves.

But that was okay, they paid well for the privilege.

Walking through the front brought you into the room where most people were stopped, and never allowed past. Such as cops or nosy reporters. The others walked around the giant desk, which held one person who worked the doors, checking names off the list on their computer to see who was allowed past. Those not already members could ask to join, where they were sent over to a little office to fill out the paperwork. It would be at least a day before they could be accepted though, since Charlie ran every potential clients' background herself to be fully aware of the people she allowed in her club. The lobby was decorated much like the inside of the club in bold reds and golds against polished black and chrome. Each of her headliners had their own posters, simple black silhouettes of themselves backlit by the lights on the stage, save for a clear bar that showed their eyes. No names, because Charlie was a stickler for privacy, but it was to give enough of a teaser to catch interest.

.

If you passed the bouncers and were allowed into the club itself, you were greeted by one of the wait staff. The main headliners would mingle in the crowd before or after their sets, but the rest of the time Charlie had other staff that served the food and worked the bar. Everything inside was plush, opulent, and made of smooth, solid black and dark wood. It was all trimmed with glittering silver to catch the lights, and splashes of red and gold to add warmth to the room. Besides the tables and booths, a fully, and well stocked bar along one wall. The stage was the center of the dance floor, well lit with speakers strewn about the room to pipe music in. There were doors in the back that led off, some to the kitchens, some to backstage areas, dressing rooms, and other places that were only for the employees. There were also some to small rooms with couches and the like where some lucky clients could get private shows, if they paid well enough for them.

Then there were the halls to the hotel in the back, which were a highly private affair. There were sets of rooms with the same themes, some just regular hotel rooms, but others fully decked out with themes that made those in the recently popular books look like children's rooms. 

The thought made Sam snicker as glanced toward the hotel in question, thinking of Charlie's response to the books that had gotten supremely popular. It hadn't been a good one. 

"Hey brother!"

Sam and Castiel both turned at the accented voice, lips curving in a smile when he raised his hand in response. From the back door that Dean had walked into strode another guy, about the same height as Dean but built thicker, with heavier muscles under the thin grey T-shirt he wore. An apron was tied around his waist, protecting his jeans from spots, folded over where he'd undone it from his neck. On top of his salt and pepper hair he wore a beret of sorts, one that Dean teased him about relentlessly, but he wore it anyway. 

"Hey Benny! How's it hangin?"

The bear of a man started towards them, plucking a thick cigar out of his shirt pocket and clamping it between his teeth to light it, blowing out a cloud of smoke before he answered Sam with a wide grin.

"A little to the left today, but ain't nothin' too bad."

Sam barked out a laugh, trying not to get a little red at the answer. He and Benny had a bit of history, of a sort. They hadn't gotten along at all to begin with, despite Dean befriending him rather quickly. But something had shifted, and the two of them had found some common ground at one point, and the prices had fit together like a puzzle sliding into place. Now they were good, and Sam thought highly of the man.

Beside him Castiel sidled closer, blue eyes pinched with nerves as he eyed the man strolling toward them. Sam would admit, just to look at, Benny could be almost intimidating because of his size and voice, even if he was one of the gentlest ones there. Maybe it was good for Cas to meet him one on one first, even if the little guy was shifting almost behind Sam.

"TMI Benny. But we're good. We brought the new guy to meet everybody too. Speaking of, he's ah.. a little shy."

Castiel let out a hiss from behind Sam's shoulder, and he grinned, knowing without looking he would be blushing a little from being put on the spot. Benny just let out a rumbling laugh, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder and sending him a wink before turning his attention to the new guy. This should be good, Sam thought, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting.

"Awww... you don' listen to Sam here, he's almos' as bad as Dean about rilin people up."

Castiel was completely behind Sam now, and Benny leaned into Sam, chest to chest so he could hook his chin over the taller man's shoulder and grin down at the new guy. He turned his head enough to see, patchwork eyes dancing with amusement at the way Castiel seemed to find some safety in being between Sam and the impala.

"Aww, you ain't gotta be afraid o'me sugar, I don't bite... well, least, unless you ask me too."

Benny's grin was a little laschievous, his icy blue eyes warm where they settled on the shorter man. Castiel seemed to pause, brows pulling down into a confused frown.

"Why... would I .... ask you to bite me?"

Sam tasted blood as he bit his lip to keep the laughter at bay, tilting his head back to look up at the sky while Benny stared at Castiel for a full minute before slowly leaning back. He kept his eyes on the other man, but leaned closer to Sam, speaking out one side of his mouth.

"Are you sure 'shy' is the word you were lookin for there Sam?"

"Its an understatement."

"Yeah, y'think? Ah... well -"

"My name is Castiel."

"Castiel... well.. its... how bout we go on in where you can meet the gang? And I'll explain it t'you another day, huh?"

Finally under control of himself, Sam turned on his heel slightly so he could see the other man, trying to offer him a reassuring smile. 

"Its cool Cas, Benny here is good people."

"Right..."

Still he gazed at the other man as if unsure, shoulders tight as if he were bristling. Sam sighed and propped a hand on his hip, running the other hand through his hair as if tried to come up with some way to offer help. 

"Hmm.. quick question, what d'you like Castiel? Men, women, a little of both?"

Blue eyes whipped from Sam to land on Benny, suddenly snapping fire as he straightened his shoulders. Sam actually took a step back with a blink of surprise, wondering where the sudden wrath of god look was coming from, though Benny just watched with amusement.

"Look, my "people skills" may be "rusty", but I am well aware that such a question is outside the realm of polite conversation to people who are simple acquaintances, save for when one person is attempting offense to the other."

Had he actually just raised his hands up and made quotations in the air? Sam thought he would be laughing if he weren't worried that Benny was about to be turned into a pile of ashes. Man, Cas would be able to give Dean a run for his money with a scowl like that.

"Now listen brother, I ain't-"

" _I am not your brother._ "

Even the guys growl was impressive. Sam started to grin as he thought that maybe Castiel could make it around here after all. But Benny's smile only grew wider, and Castiel's gaze narrowed further in response.

"What, really?"

"I have no possible relation to you-"

"Cas, Cas, its just... its slang, like me and Dean use, okay? Its... ah, he's not..."

"Listen, I asked for a reason. I'm just tryin' to help you out here. So, humor me, and answer the question."

Castiel glared at Benny for several seconds until Sam reached out and dropped his hand on the other mans shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. When those blue eyes turned to Sam, he raised his brows, tilting his head toward Benny with just s little bit of his puppy eyes behind it to get Castiel to go along with it. There was a huff so low he almost missed it, but then the shoulder under his hand relaxed, somewhat.

"-Fine-. I seem to enjoy men and women, although I generally prefer men. Does that help you?"

"It does in fact. That means we should let you meet the women first, because they'll get you... less flustered than the guys. You'll have a better chance to get used to the club itself without being overwhelmed by everything else and that too."

Castiel's eyes widened just a fraction, and he glanced over at Sam curiously, obviously looking for some sort of direction.

"I... guess he's got a pretty good point Cas.. Who all's in there now Benny?"

The man took a pull off his previously forgotten cigar, eyes skating off to the side while he let out a long curl of smoke that made Castiel wrinkle his nose.

"Mmm... everybody's in today.. but Kali is in there practising her new routine. The others are all around.."

Sam felt his jaw start to drop, and he sent a wary glance at Cas and back.

"Ah... I don't know if he should-"

"Hey! What the fuck are y'all waiting on?!"

They all spun, looking toward the sound of Dean's irate voice as he barked at them, hands on his hips and scowling darkly. Sam and Benny ducked their heads, sputtering in surprise as Castiel pushed between them and began across the lot. His shoes clicked as he walked, back straight beneath the white button up, black dress pants still ridiculously crisp. 

"I am waiting on them to decide how best to introduce me to the people inside of this club. I would like to go in now."

Dean's eyes slid back toward Sam and Benny, before returning to Castiel as he began to smirk. His hands came up to grab the blue tie that was on backwards, turning it around and smoothing it over the swell of the other man's chest and then grabbed hold of it. Castiel stumbled when Dean yanked, walking backwards as the other two men began forward at a fast pace.

"Alright Cas, let's go."

"Dean!"

"Brother don't scar him for life!"

 

\---

 

Admittedly, Castiel was nervous. 

He followed along behind Dean, watching the exaggerated sway of his hips as he turned, still holding onto the tie looped around his neck, green eyes glinting in the darkened hallway. Music thumped through the floors, the beat making his heart pound a little faster against his ribs, nose filling with the scents of the club, something cool, flowery, and clean.

He had thought maybe it would smell like liqueur, or cheap, cloying perfume.

Then they reached a swinging red door that Dean slapped open with a careless flick of his wrist, and he spun. It yanked Castiel forward, sending him staggering out into darkness. He flung out his hands, caught a table with a jangle of glass, hissing at the sting of his hips cracking the edge. 

With the beat of the music and some raspy voice crooning about tainted love, lights flickered, strobing pulses of red and white light across the stage. Something moved through the darkness, slinking like a cat, lithe and dangerous as it sauntered across the stage, dark eyes like diamonds in the shadows. Every bass beat brought another flash of light, a hint of movement, curves, caramel skin, ruby lips. 

Castiel's breath stilled in his lungs, and suddenly spotlights came up, illuminated the stage, and the figure who stood at the end. All black leather, high heeled boots laced up above her knees, black skirt that shifted, slithered across satin skin as she rolled her hips, gloves laced up past her elbows, and a corset that was moulded to her like a second skin. Then her arm came up, snaked back behind her head, and came around in a blur. There was a whistling in the air, and Castiel had a moment of confusion as to what the sound was until the heavy leather snapped in front of his face with a crack like thunder. He felt the air as it swung by, gasping as adrenaline flooded his system and he tried to backpedal at the threat. There was a flash of teeth, bright and sharp in the shadows, and he felt his stomach drop as those eyes focused on him. Before he could go more than a step back he slammed into something that pressed flush against him, solid and warm, curling around him. His heart stuttered as hands slid over his sides and up his chest, pressing calloused thumbs against his jaw to urge his face forward again. 

He hadn't realized he had turned away.

His heart felt as if it would explode, pounding against the arms wound around him, and breath fanned over his pulse, stubble scraping his neck, raising chills over his skin. The scent of leather and warm male tickled his nose over the smell of the club, and a voice rumbled against his ear as his eyes landed on the stage again, finding those of the woman on stage where the whip slithered as if alive, snaking along beside her hip as she moved.

"Cas, meet Kali, our resident destroyer.. of everything. Well, everything that begs for it anyway. Say hello, Cas."

"H-Hello Cas.."

Dean's chuckle was pure sin next to his ear, making him melt back against the other man while the woman, Kali, raised an eyebrow while staring down at him. The music faded out while the lights came up, and her voice was a low purr with a line of danger vibrating through the tone that was almost bored.

"Oohh look, fresh meat."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And these are pictures of the people themselves in the posters, that one was a magizene cover that Rekha Sharma actually did.   
> And we all recognize the s10 promo pic lol.


	6. Chapter 6

"Now sugar, no eatin the new ones alive on their first day!"  
Benny's strained but chiding voice brought the attention around to him as he and Sam came trampling through the doorway, half out of breath. It seemed to snap Cas out of his daze, effectively breaking the spell that Dean had wove. With a soft sigh he slid back, maybe dragging his hands over the other man more than was needed as he backed away.  
"Do you wish to step up in his place Benny?"  
Castiel's gaze whipped between them as Kali baited the bigger man, her voice a dangerous purr, jaw dropping as her eyes glinted in challenge. Benny rolled his shoulders, giving her back a smile that looked sharp, blue eyes flashing with a sudden predatory light. His voice dropped an octave, the thick drawl he had thickening like syrup when he reached up and curved his hand in an oddly graceful gesture reminiscent of half a bow.  
"Awww now, maybe after this weekend, hmm? After all, can't have bruises littering that beautiful skin durin your set tomorrow night."  
Kali rolled up the whip she held, tilting her head to the side as she eyed him, before lifting a delicate shoulder with a low scoff, though her eyes seemed to heat at the offer.  
"Tch, we shall see if your bite is as good as your bark then, cajun."  
Dean halfway snickered, knowing full well that Benny's bite was pretty savage. He sent a glance at Sam, whose ears had gone red as he shifted, and knew he was thinking the same thing. As Kali disappeared behind the curtain, Dean clapped a hand on Castiel's shoulder, startling him enough that he jumped and spun, blue eyes wide.  
"Come on man, let's start introducin you to everybody else."

 

Benny veered off into the kitchen as they walked toward the back, throwing up a hand in parting.  
"Have some stuff to oversee, y'all come back through later. Nice meetin ya Castiel."  
"Ah.. yes, l-likewise.."  
Sam sighed from behind them, though Dean continued to pull Castiel along, arms looped together as they moved down the hallway. He was betting most of them were in the dance hall, so that's where they were headed.  
"Don't worry Cas, you can handle a gaggle of girls. Just ah.. if one of them actually acts like they're gonna hit you, then you should move... cause some of them are kinda mean. Like, seriously, for one, we employ the worlds angriest ginger-"  
"Dean she would -kill- you if she heard you saying that."  
He looked back at Sam with a grin as his brother laughed, though Castiel looked a little alarmed.

\----

/ _The heeeeeat of the moment-_ /  
"What the hell-"  
/ _Heeeaaat of the moooment!_ /  
Gabriel snarled as he moved, almost flopping around in an effort not to extend his shoulder too far while still blindly flailing for his phone. He was /fucking killing/ Balthazar. The bedroom door swung open with a bang, and upon seeing the state his so called friend was in, the bastard himself began to roar with laughter as he slumped the against the door frame.  
"Oh haha you English fuck - just wait -"  
"T-that's what you get for changing Sam's intro music to Asia for two weeks straight!"  
"I will end the both of you when I get out of this bed!"  
Finally shaking himself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed he snatched his phone up, swiping the screen and nearly braining himself as he popped it against his ear with the sound of Balthazar's laughter howling in the background.  
" **WHAT?** "  
There was a moment of hesitation, just before something shifted, and a voice straight out of his most hellish of nightmares came across the lines, sounding thoroughly disgusted and just as arrogant as it always had.  
"By all that is holy Gabriel do pull yourself together this is not a social call."  
Balthazar quieted when his spine snapped straight, an instant reaction of a soldier being barked at by his superior. Out of pure spite, even knowing she couldn't see, Gabriel slouched over again, but knew the instant anger burning through his veins was showing on his face and in the trembling of his voice, dripping with sarcasm.  
" _Mother_. To what do I owe this _pleasure_? Obviously you're not calling me to inform me of your own death, so it must not be that bad."  
She let out something ridiculously akin to a hiss, which gave him a moment of satisfaction at least.  
"I am well aware you care nothing for the rest of your family-"  
He snorted, but she talked over it, tone getting progressively more frigid.  
"-but I have in fact not called for entertainment. I would not harass your poor sister for a way to contact you just for kicks. I..."  
When she hesitated, Gabriel felt real concern welling up, causing a weird tightening feeling in his chest that made him straighten again, pushing slowly to his feet.  
"What? What happened?"  
She let out a delicate sniff, which made him curl his lip. He knew well enough that she was faking this at least somewhat, playing up the pitiful mother act just to get his cooperation on whatever she wanted; he was used to that.  
"I need your help... you were the only one he ever really talked to, and you always found him in this past when you were children."  
There was a ringing in his ears as his mouth went dry, gaze going unfocused as something ripped against the walls of his stomach.  
"Wh-what are you saying?"  
"With your _spectacular_  example on top of your oldest brothers already-"  
"Spit it the fuck out mother!"  
She sputtered, and the phone chirped in protest, the plastic crunching in his hold as his hands shook.  
"Castiel had become more and more unruly, fighting with his brothers and even I, and after a nasty argument twelve days ago, he left the house in a fit and has not returned. He was the most sheltered from the world of the rest of you, and... we have yet to hear from him. He has not called any of us, even Anael. Michael has put an alert for his description across police boards through the states, even for any john does that would match. He has at least had a few reports of sightings, and it seems your brother has been traveling in a relatively straight pattern toward _you_. I wanted you to know.. so that you could keep an eye out for him, and _at least_  inform your sister if no one else that he is alive and safe if you find him."  
Gabriel snorted as he began to relax, somewhat.  
"That's an _order_  Gabriel."  
"Funny thing mother, I never did take those from you well, and I don't have to at all any more."  
Her indignant shriek was cut off mid-pitch as he punched the button on his phone and dropped it on his bed. Balthazar stepped forward a little hesitantly, raising a hand to touch it lightly on his bare shoulder.  
"Gabriel... what happened?"  
His throat felt clogged, but he wasn't sure what it was exactly; a strange cocktail of adrenaline, concern, even a bit of relief, but overall worry and a strange desire to laugh.  
"My...my little brother finally grew up, and ran away from home. Apparently, he's headed here... I just.. I'm proud of him."  
Balthazar shifted, lifted a hand to touch his cheek, and gave him an oddly soft smile, those icy blue eyes concerned.  
"Than why are you crying?"  
"Shut up, I said I was proud."

\----

Sam stuck his head inside the dance hall once Castiel had made it six minutes without an explosion or running out screaming to find their new friend the center of attention. He seemed a bit flustered, but otherwise fine, answering questions as seriously as he always did, peering curiously at the women who were in a circle around him, all talking at once. Dean nodded and dropped a hand on Sam's shoulder, giving him half a smile that was only a little forced.  
"Knew he'd do good. M'gonna get some air though, give him a bit. You keep an eye on him just in case, and I'll be back."  
"Alright Dean..."  
Avoiding the questioning and worried gaze from Sam, he hurriedly turned to do as he said, throwing up a hand in parting with a thin cheery smile aimed over his shoulder. Sometimes when certain memories snuck up on him and smashed him over the head, he had to get away and breathe for a minute.  
His feet took him back through the quiet building, stepping out into the sunshine and taking a deep breath of clear air that instantly relaxed his shoulders. He drug his feet across the ground, one hand on the back of his neck as he thought to himself. Really, he shouldn't have snapped at Castiel like that, he should apologize, but...  
"Ow!"  
Dean hissed as he smacked the fender of the impala, rubbing his thigh with a dark glare at the leg in question, before he let out a long sigh. Both hands flat against her hood, he stood over his baby and hung his head, knowing full well he hadn't wandered back here for no reason. She'd been home for more years than he could count, was in fact his rock when he didn't go to Sam.  
Always calmed his frayed nerves.  
His eyes focused on that black paint, his reflection warped slightly, and for a moment a memory flickered within the flash of sunlight that glinted back at him.

 

" _Bobby_!"  
His fist rammed against the door, rain a constant roar at his back, a flash of lightening illuminating the rickety porch he stood on, and the terrified boy clinging around his waist, shaking, soaked to the bone.  
"Bobby _open up_!!"  
Desperation clogged his throat, adrenaline ricocheting through his system, one arm curving around the boy sobbing into his shirt, his leather jacket big on the smaller frame but protective. He didn't care that _he_ was shaking, cold and terrified to his very soul, the gun in his waistband like ice, heavy and solid, the bag over his shoulder still there; he kept checking.  
He bellowed again, hammering his fists against door until a light came on upstairs, and the relief was so palpable his knees shook with it. The junkyard was somewhat illuminated as a grumpy voice snapped from inside that they were coming.  
He could see the jet black sheen at the edge of the light, and that was his goal. Hurry, he thought.  
The door swung open, and there stood Bobby, bearded face slipping into surprise, then concern.  
"Dean? What's - _Sam?_ What the hell boy?"  
He pulled himself to his full seventeen year old height, smoothed his face out, and squared his shoulders.  
"Bobby, I need the impala back, I'm here to get her."  
Lightening flashed, and a small bundle of cherry red curls peered from the doorway behind the man, eyes wide in the darkness. Dean ignored them, staring down the man before him who checked him over, and peered cautiously at Sam.  
"What kind of trouble have you gotten into boy?"  
"We have to _go_ Bobby! Give me the keys!"  
There was a moment of silence as he crossed his arms over his chest, gaze narrowed on him. Desperation was heavy in his stomach, and he took a staggered step forward, clutched at Sam as the boy gave a muffled squeak of protest. He was just barely holding back the urge to crumple at the old mans feet, scream and rage, let it out and give the responsibility over to him, because what if he couldn't do it?!  
Mary's frantic face flashed before his eyes, flames shooting up the ceiling as she whispered to him frantically and shoved both he and Sam into a darkened doorway.  
Bobby's voice brought him back, made him make his head to right it and ice crawled up his spine again. No, he wasn't dragging Bobby into it.  
"Tell me what happened."  
"Look - they're gonna be after us! As soon as the cops get the fire out-"  
He heaved for breath, voice cracking, fear shuddering through him.  
"-we have to go! We don't have any time!"  
"Where's Mary?"  
" _I promised her Bobby_!"  
Tears threatened, burned at the back of his eyes, but he stared at the man in front of him, _willed_ him to do what he wanted.  
"You could-"  
"Its not safe here either! He's got friends in high places, I saw him Bobby - there's nothing to do but run right now!"  
He clenched a fist, raised it, watched it steady as a snarl curled his lip.  
"I'll get him - one day - but ... but right now _we have to go_!"  
"Did'jou think you were gonna leave in a broken down car?"  
His breath stopped, heart pounding against his ribs as he remembered. _How had he forgotten?! Shit-_  
"Good thing I fixed her for you. Planned on it bein a graduation present, but I s'pose you need it now. Here.."  
Bobby turned, shooed the child in the door away, and Dean stared after him in stunned silence. He paused at the fridge, reached up to a rack of them, took down a set of keys that glimmered in the kitchen light, rummaged in a drawer for a moment and paused to scribble something on a piece of paper. When he came back, he took hold of Dean's wrist with calloused fingers, turned his hand over and gave him what he held. The keys to the impala, a note with a name and address on it, and a wad of cash.  
His eyes snapped back up to Bobby in shock and the old man was nodding at him.  
"Go on boy. She's in fine condition, and you'll need that to feed the both of you. Don't forget - change your name, lay low. And for fucks sake, call me when you land somewhere and tell me you're both alright."  
"I... _Bobby_...."  
"Get on boy, watch yer ass out there."  
The metal bit into his palm as he clenched his fist, and he nodded, not trusting his voice. Before he could change his mind, he spun on his heel, bending and lifting Sam with one arm, and sprinted across the lot, to the safety of the impala. It was only minutes before he got them both in, settled, the bag stashed under the seat, gun pushed into the dash console, and Sam maneuvered to lay across so he was still halfway in Dean's lap, arms around his waist. She came to life with a roar like thunder, protective, and he switched the heat on, threw her into drive, and tore out of the junkyard without a single glance back.  
"D-Dean...?"  
"S'okay Sammy, I got you.."

 

"Dean?"  
He shot to his feet and whirled, eyes tracking the owner of the voice from across the lot, swallowed back the emotions that clogged his throat. /Fuck/ he had to stop doing that.  
"Yeah Sam? M'right here."  
"Sure.... well come on man, Charlie's in and she wants to officially introduce everybody to Cas."  
"Alright alright, m'comin..."

\----

"So, I see some of you have got to meet him already, but for those that haven't, this is Castiel. He's gonna be serving for a while, and.. well, play nice with him huh?"  
Charlie stared pointedly at Kali and Abaddon, who shared looks filled with mischief at her announcement, but the rest chorused a quiet hello in response. From the edge of the group Dean let out a whoop and threw his fist in the air.  
"Yeah, go new guy! ....what?"  
The others broke into laughter as Sam shoved him, rolling his eyes heavenward for patience. Charlie could only grin in response.  
"Alright take it down a notch there Smith. Why don't yall show him the rest of the club, and teach him the ropes? Sam, he'll need the clothes, so get him measured and order what he needs okay? Cas, you'll be starting Friday okay? That'll give you today and tomorrow to get the hang of it some - but don't worry, we won't just throw you out on your own, you're still learning."  
Castiel nodded, squaring his shoulders and looking away from Sam and Dean's bright grins to the others.  
"Thank you... I will do the best that I can."  
There was more laughter, and Dean appeared at his side, throwing an arm around the mans shoulders and staggering him a bit sideways with his enthusiasm.  
"You'll do great man, let's give you the full tour, then you and Sam can play dress up! Watch him though, he might get you a bunch of dresses."  
"I.. have never worn a dress, but I am indifferent to gender specific labeling on such inconsequential things as fashion. Though.. I do not know if it would suit me..."  
Dean's eyes popped wide and the rest of them fell into raucous laughter at his flabbergasted look. Sam swooped in to save him, still chuckling as he tugged on Castiel's opposite sleeve.  
"Ignore him Cas, he was just messing with you, he's about the same way, though he has specific things he likes. C'mon Dean, you can still help with the tour!"  
"Wh-yeah! Damnit Cas we gotta teach you some shit man, you're killin me here."  
"But Dean I have not- "  
"Just - shh! Follow Sam!"  
Charlie cackled, and Dean just raised a hand to flip her the bird over his shoulder as they started off. Yeah, this was definitely home.

\----

Charlie was protective of her friends, and tried not to mother hen them too much, but Friday night she knew good and well she was doing the right thing as she pushed through the throng of customers that had her club filled to the brim and every seat taken. She had hovered a little, watching Castiel slowly feel out his new position, smiling at how he had become an instant part of the family.  
And her customers? Oh they were enchanted.  
Sam had gotten the man black pants like the others, and comfortable shoes. As far as her uniforms went, that was about it, though all her waitresses had mostly matching aprons. Castiel had gotten finagled into a white button up short and a dark blue tie, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, tie backwards somehow, and the little black apron around his hips decorated with the Angels glittery logo. Charlie thought it was _adorable_.  
When he dropped off his order of drinks to a table and went to sweep back by, Charlie caught his elbow and brought him to a quick stop.  
"Hey Cas! How's it going?"  
Castiel relaxed when he saw it was her, shoulders dropping as he offered a tentative smile.  
"Very good Charlie. Benny says I am a 'natural'."  
"Of course you are! I'm super proud of you!"  
That brought the man to preen a little, and she beamed at him, shifting from her perch on the end of the bar to look around. When she saw no other seats, she shrugged and patted the clean spot beside her, where she knew Samandriel had just wiped it down for her.  
"So, come sit here with me for a few."  
Castiel shifted, looking around at the busy room and seeming suddenly uncomfortable.  
"But Charlie I am supposed to be working and-"  
"Honey I'm your boss! Its okay! Plus... I have an ulterior motive. Come on now!"  
After a moment he heaved a sigh and caved, scrambling up until he sat ramrod straight beside her, staring at his lap now that he was taller than all the customers, carefully avoiding curious looks.  
"Good! Y'see... well... I know you've kinda watched the others do their dances tonight, right?"  
Castiel nodded, eyes bright in the glimmering lights around them, looking uncertain, so she smiled warmly at him.  
"Dude don't worry, you're not in trouble! Its cool! See... I just thought you should sit down for this next one.. cause you ain't seen nuthin yet."

He pulled that a-fucking-dorable little head tilt, peering at her in obvious confusion. She huffed a laugh before he even talked, knowing her movie reference had went straight over the poor thing's head.

"But... I have seen several performances already that were very ... ah, good."  
Charlie let out a delighted laugh.  
"Exactly! See, you've never seen anything like _these_ bitches, and I wanted you to sit down and enjoy it. Y'know, without the possibility of dropping a tray full of drinks on some of my patrons."  
Castiel looked utterly horrified. "Charlie I would never-"  
"Oh no no I know! I just... hmm.. I think you'll be surprised, and get distracted. Just go with me on this, okay?"  
He thought a moment, then finally let out a long breath.  
"Alright... I will trust you."  
"Awesome! Now... watch honey."  
Charlie sent her gaze up to Ash in his booth on the second floor, and he responded with a grin and a thumbs up. Immediately the lights went down, causing the people to settle, quickly. Castiel looked around with a slight frown, curious, but Charlie was already in a full blown, maniac grin. Smooth music curled out of the speakers, slid in a peal of jazz that fluttered around everyone, bringing all attention to the stage. One last person hurried through the crowd to drop into their seat in front of the stage, and the lights came up as a low voice began to croon through the speakers.  
Charlie snorted as she recognized the song, Texas Flood.  
The theme of the night was country music, and this was about as close to solid country as this particular angel of hers would get. He might party to just about anything, but not to dance to. This though, this rolling, sultry tune that thrummed through the speakers, he could dance to. Very well.  
Hence Charlie's reasoning why she had pulled poor little Cassie to sit down, so he could watch without being distracted. She knew her babies, and as easily as the poor thing was flustered, she wanted him to watch this and enjoy.  
Without breaking his neck.  
So she leaned back against the wall at her back, having purposely sit in the corner at the end of the bar, crossed one knee over the other, and watched.  
Castiel seemed as interested as ever, calmly watching as the spotlights illuminated the stage. A figure was leaned against the wall as the curtains pulled apart, coming more into view, the lights sweeping a slow stroke from the tips of a pair of dark cowboy boots up. Scruffy, faded jeans clung to long legs, a glimmering belt buckle, a button up dark green and blue flannel shirt, hands shoved carelessly into the pockets, an almost black cowboy hat tipped down to hide the face, but the curling, shaggy hair around the shoulders gave away who it was.  
He uncrossed his ankles, slid his feet apart, and straightened up in a sinuous move that belied the fact that he had a spine. When he tipped his head back just a little, sent a taunting grin toward the crowd with a flash of hazel eyes, Castiel straightened just a little, lips parting.  
Sam sauntered forward, hips rolling, smoothing his hands over his denim clad thighs, down and up, then caught the edge of his shirt with his fingertips, raising it enough to give a flash of tan skin. The crowd made low noises, eager and needy in the dark, causing Sam to chuckle, pausing to wrap his hand around the pole in front of him, lean into it, shift his body with the rhythm of the music just enough to almost be obscene.  
When Charlie glanced at Castiel, his hands were tight around the edge of the bar, leaning forward to stare.  
Sam suddenly went boneless, dropped to his knees, arched his body up like a bow, head tipped back. He caught his hat with one hand so it wouldn't slip, hips thrusting up, slid his legs apart and together again, rose back up to curl himself around the pole. Castiel's small gasp made Charlie smirk.  
Oh honey, she thought, _hang on_.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this was taking forever but my last tablet decided to kill itself and I've been working a shitton of overtime because my boss is a dickess hoohah.  
> BUT anyway, I'm FINALLY getting a little back on track so expect some updates now. FINALLYYYYYY lol


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I finally got to update again!!! Woooo!!! :D
> 
> Also, uhm.. maybe a warning - though I'm not good at really explaining what might be a trigger so - uhm guns,seeming consent issues in some situations but nothing too bad?  
> Just a heads up. 
> 
> Anyway, lets get this story moving dangit! Finally getting time to sit down and write so yay!

Castiel had to admit, when Charlie was right, she was right.

He felt as if he were leaning too far, swaying back and bit and locking his arms so that he didn’t make a fool of himself by falling off the bar. Blue eyes were still glued to the stage though, unable to tear them away from what he was watching.

Just as Charlie did, Ash knew his trade well, and could blend music seamlessly on the fly to make loops, slow it down or speed it up; Castiel had heard the guys talking about it before, and their gestures they made that looked like nothing to the audience but the genius in the box above understood. He had not heard the song often, but he knew there were extra things, emphasis on the electric guitar, places that repeated where there shouldn’t have been, though had he not known before he wouldn’t have been able to tell.

Then his thought process sizzled out, because Sam was dancing again, doing more than teasing.

Lights followed him, pinpointing the form moving on the stage with a liquid grace. In another feline move, Sam laid back, knees still around the pole, pressed his shoulders to the floor and flattened his feet. The move was slow, taunting, as he arched his back up, smoothed his hands along his sides to lift his shirt more, then lay flat again. A flick of his fingers undone the bottom button, the next, and he lifted his hips off the floor, clenched his thighs around the pole as he pushed up into the air, setting his teeth into his lower lip at the action. The crowd moved, shivered in the dark, soft noises and breaths mingling under the music. It made him start to smile, sharp and tantalizing, working his hips in a sinuous roll with the beat, and opened two more buttons. It drew sounds of encouragement from the crowd, so he popped open the last button, let the edges of the shirt flutter open to reveal his collar, dusky nipples, a bare sprinkle of hair across his chest, abs that rippled with the effort as he rolled his hips up again, the trail of dark hair that disappeared into the top of his jeans.

He curled up, wrapped a hand around the pole, and lifted himself up in one move, leaving his fist just a tad lower than his belt buckle as he settled his feet in a wide stance, tossed his hair back, rolled himself against the cold metal.

The sound Castiel made was ridiculous, and hopefully, he thought, lost under the music filling every corner of the room. He could feel the flush spreading from his cheeks to his neck, and was suddenly, insanely glad of the apron tied over the front of his jeans.

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Charlie’s voice, a dreamy sigh by his ear, was enough to halfway startle him, but he did not take his eyes away as Sam loosely held the pole and slid around it, snakelike and effortless with the way he moved.

“Yes.”

Was that his voice? It shocked him, enough to tear his eyes away from the stage to look at Charlie in surprise, who was grinning widely at him. It had come out rough, like he had been chewing gravel; which was certainly saying something. He’d never heard that tone from himself before.

The crowd gasped, making him swing his head back around to see what he had missed. He was thankful for Charlie at that moment, because she grabbed the back of his collar, tugged him back until he straightened instead of letting him fall off the bar. He would tell her so later though, because at the moment, he didn’t care if he _did_ land in the floor as long as it didn’t interrupt.

On stage, Sam had gotten down as if doing a push up, palms against the wood, but instead he bent one leg at a time, twisting his hips in mimicry of walking against the stage that looked utterly _filthy_ somehow. Then he put his shoulders almost down, rolled from head to toe like wave, pushed back until he was up on his hands and knees. A toss of his hair had him eyeing the crowd like a predator, blue green eyes flickering in the light as if deciding what to do next.

Amidst the shadowed figures at the front, one moved, flashed a handful of green bills in the edge of the spotlight, and sat back. Sam cocked a brow, but then grinned, prowled forward on all fours, had several people in the audience making low cheers.

Castiel had noticed the crowd started out quiet but grew louder through each person’s dance, and this offering of money was nothing different either, though it was different here than it was in other places. Unless the dancer chose to let the client touch, in an obvious way, they had to be very careful how they handed the money over. It was usually fairly simple though, but for whatever reason, this one seemed….different? Maybe it was just because they were calmer in the face of _that._

Which, he personally, could not quite grasp at the moment.

The spotlight followed Sam as he slid off the stage back onto his feet, sauntering over to the figure, illuminating legs spread invitingly wide, boots and blue jeans in the theme for the night, one hand tucked into a front pocket carelessly, a red and black flannel, and a dark brown cowboy hat bent low enough that even Sam couldn’t see the face. He was slumped far enough in the chair to seem to be nearly asleep, though he couldn’t be, and Sam paused once he had stepped between the legs of the man. When there was no reaction, he glanced around at the crowd, put on a little bit of his puppy face, which got them to coo at him, and looked back at the man who hadn’t moved.

Charlie leaned forward now, though Castiel didn’t look directly at her, and wondered why she was muttering something that sounded threatening.

Sam, unaware, dropped to the floor, back bowing up amidst the gasps, wrapping his hands around the bowed knees as he straightened. Now the man shifted a little, the edge of his hat tipping up slightly, though he was still mostly in shadow, and eased his hand from his pocket. Sam took that as a good sign, slid his large hands up strong thighs tantalizingly slow, bending forward as he did to push the legs wider to accommodate him. He stopped at the hips, thumbs pressing in, eyes flicking down and back up, gaze teasing.

There was a brief pause as the stranger shifted a ripple of movement in the dark, and Sam’s smile widened, triumphant. A hand shot out, grabbed a fistful of Sam’s hair, jerked his head back at a rough angle, and there was a flicker of silver.

Everything froze.

With an ear rending screech the music died, and the crowd around them fell deathly silent, frozen in fear. Castiel was on his feet on the bar instantly in a bid to see beside Charlie, and when he saw what had everyone reacting, fury poured up his spine. The man had an old colt revolver, barrel pressed under Sam’s’ chin, fingers twisted in his hair to hold him still there on the floor. He thumbed back the safety, the sound loud in the sudden quiet of the room. It made Sam swallow, lift up both hands beside his head, eyes dangerous and lip curled. The cowboy hat rose slightly, and he tipped the brim at the booth above, at Ash. Something was said, because Sam’s eyes followed the movement, and he flicked his fingers in one of those gestures. There was a heartbeat of hesitation, and Ash started the next song, one that had Charlie going still, suspicious.

Led Zeppelin, Castiel thought, when the levee breaks. _What was that imbecile doing?_

But to him, it didn’t matter. Once the music began, the crowd pushing back to give the two room but too afraid to run, something else began. The man stood slowly, keeping the cold metal against the underside of Sam’s jaw, hand fisted in the silken hair. Something about the movement screamed danger, something lethal coiled tight like a snake waiting to strike. It made the hair on the back of Castiel’s neck stand up; he had seen men like that before, dangerous things that stalked the night.

But how did one of them get in here?

He looked to Charlie for some clue as of what to do, and scrambled down off the bar as she did, looking back at the stage as her lips tightened.

Sam’s back was arched back like a bow, following the man’s prompts, but was obviously angry, cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed, spitting sparks. Now in the spotlight, the gun flashed with movement, being tapped against Sam’s chin, slid up his cheek and down, pushed against his lips. It made him scowl, teeth gritted, but the man yanked the fist in his hair in warning, and finally, Sam opened his mouth. The hand in his hair came free, slid forward to trace a thumb across his lip, dip in and press against his tongue.

Castiel’s entire world went red, and he was surging forward.

He was jerked to a sudden, bone jarring stop by something, whirling to see Benny hanging onto his arm.

“No Castiel. Wait.”

“But he-“

“Don’t.”

He practically hissed at the Cajun, wanting to yell and tell _him_ to stop it then, save Sam, and something of his thoughts must have crossed his face. Before he knew it Benny had yanked him forward, spun him, one arm behind his back, and held him with his back against the bigger mans chest. He grunted at the impact, opening his mouth, and had a paw slapped over it to keep him still.

“Just wait brother. _When it’s time._ ”

He wanted to fight, to curse and yell and bring the entire building down around their heads, because he couldn’t – _by the gods where was Dean?_ Was that what Benny was waiting on? Was Dean even now sneaking around to help? Catch the man unawares?

Finally he relaxed against Benny’s hold, minutely, putting a bit of faith in the two. At least, in _Dean_ anyway.

Back at the stage, Sam dropped his eyes, looking coy as he closed his lips around the man’s thumb and sucked. It caused him to shudder, and Sam reached up, careful and slow, to lay his hands against those thighs again. The dancer shifted a little to the music, knees spreading apart for his balance as he gripped his hands, opened his lips to let go of the thumb he’d held. For a moment nothing happened, everyone held their breath, and then the man moved. It was so fast, so sudden. He grabbed Sam’s open shirt with both hands and lifted. Without thinking Sam pushed to help, stumbling to his feet and back, thumping against the side of the stage. He was practically sitting against it now, legs splayed wide, boots flat to keep himself still as the man stepped up between them. The gun was held rock steady, loose and easy, settled at the hip and pointed at Sam’s chest as he stepped in, nearly against him now. Again Sam held up his hands, waiting on some signal, something to tell him what this was about.

Then another riff of the song played, and the man moved. He rolled, slow and languid, from head to toe, pushing his legs against Sam’s thighs with the motion. It made Sam freeze, eyes popping wide in shock. The hand without the gun came up, tugged at the collar of the red flannel, popping the first button. Sam swallowed, tried and failed to fight the shiver than shook him as the guy went on, a tortuous, drawn out thing, hips rocking until he had his shirt open. As soon as it fell open, Sam’s gaze ran across the bared skin, snapped up to the face, still hidden, and down to the gun again. Then his hands flashed out, shoved the man stumbling back three steps, and reached behind himself. He grabbed the pole, stomach flexing, and with a moment that argued how strong he was, pulled himself backwards. His legs came up, straightened together to sweep past the pole, rolled his shoulder against the stage, and came up into a half crouch, hair falling across his eyes to stare at the man. The stranger had regained his footing, snapping the gun up with a whirl to aim it at Sam again. They stared each other down for a heartbeat before he took a step forward, and Sam crawled one back. Another, and another, until the man leapt onto the stage, agile as a cat, never wavering, and Sam rose to his feet. It was all an oddly graceful thing, moving in sync with each other, predator and prey as they stayed locked, watching. The crowd was into it now, leaning forward, gasping at any movement, whispers and horrified yelps accompanying anything that happened. The guy flinched forward as if he would run or jump and Sam slid three steps back, putting himself onto the larger part of the stage. He faked left, went back right, whirled past a hanging curtain, and the man shot forward two steps to keep eyes on him, gun jerking to follow. They stood then, center of the bigger stage, and began to circle, one, two slow steps, a sliding of feet, then one, two, three, quicker ones, a sharp move, parried, and back they went.

Suddenly Sam lunged forward, hands out, and they locked up. Sam curled a hand around the wrist with the gun, fighting for leverage, swung a punch, snarled when it was blocked with little effort, and ducked a returned swipe. It was over almost before it had begun, the stranger winning and getting a good hold on Sam. He used it to spin him, press Sam’s back to his front, push the gun against his jaw again and splay his other hand over the base of his throat. Sam froze, swallowing carefully, hands out and still. Then the man started to slide his hand down, over the swell of Sam’s chest, where his breathing was already fast, rough fingers pressing against tanned skin. Sam’s eyes fluttered shut, lips parting when the hand stopped on his stomach, pushed to press them together. Then they were moving, hips rotating to the music. He moved the gun, tilted Sam’s head to bare his neck; the hat lowered as he dipped his head, hiding what he did then. But Sam reacted, hands snapping up to lock around the other mans wrists and hold on. The other hand dipped lower, moved over the belt buckle, down and back up over the bulge in his jeans. Sam’s jaw went slack, the movement of their hips getting deeper, not faster, just that rough, steady rhythm.

The audience shifted, restless, confused, uncertain, and enthralled, enticed despite themselves.

They all jumped at the sudden thump of sound that was louder than the music, saw the gun fall and bounce away. The stranger grabbed Sam, pushed him down to his knees, threaded his hands into that fall of hair and pulled him back. He bent double then, slammed their mouths together in a kiss that had the dancer reacting as if burned. Sam reached up, hips bucking, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to pull the guy closer, and grabbed the hat with the other, tossed it away. It fluttered to the stage floor, stopping as the two finally separated and the crowd broke into thunderous cheers that rattled the walls.

Sam laughed, looked out at them when they began to toss money everywhere, and back up as Dean straightened, smirked at the lot of them, and shrugged.

“Taught ‘em everything he knows, eh Sammy?”

Castiel would have likely killed himself or fainted dead away at this point, had Benny not have been holding him, at first back and now upright. The Cajun settled him onto a stool as he stared, openmouthed, at the stage with shocked horror on his face, and laughed out loud.

“You’ll get used to ‘em angel.”

Charlie looked somewhere between disgusted and utterly proud.

“I hate them so much sometimes. And Dean _always_ crashes my country nights!!”

She turned and stormed off, but Castiel was still watching the stage as Dean helped Sam to his feet, checked him over with a smile, watched Sam shove him away a little bashfully, and pick up the gun to hand it back to Dean as they made their way off stage.

Nobody cared that there hadn’t been much stripping involved apparently.

The crowd was still in a frenzy over it when the music cut back to the between show music, a softer lull, and the regular lights came up, bright enough to see by to walk around well. Castiel finally snapped his gaping jaw shut and slid unsteadily off the barstool to stagger towards the back.

 

 

Sam sat down heavily into his chair in his and Dean’s ‘dressing rooms’, sending the other man a half lidded look.

“Damn Dean, you could have warned me man.”

Dean laughed, flopped down into his chair across from him and waggled his eyebrows.

“We practically rehearsed that.”

“No we didn’t – you told me you were going to crash the country night, and some other time you had told me you wanted to do a scene where you were a bad guy with fighting and stuff. But _fuck_ dude-“

He broke off with a shudder, making Dean’s eyes gleam wickedly.

“Aww Sammy you enjoyed it.” Dean’s voice was a low, teasing purr, causing Sam to glance over at him, see that unnatural stillness that he had only seen Dean get sometimes when there was danger. It had always sent something tripping up his spine, catching his breath in his throat and sending his heart to thumping wildly. The smile that he wore was sharp, boots silent as he pushed to his feet with a liquid move, one hand coming up to thumb at his bottom lip. Sam swallowed, pushing himself farther into his chair as if it would help him get away, hands curling around the suede arms.

“D-Dean –“

“You think I don’t remember Sammy?”

“Remember wh-“

Sam cut off with a gasp when he suddenly had a lapful of Dean, knees on either side of his hips and hands bracketing his head. That smirk, the one that made him look as cocky, as arrogant as he had every right to be most times was there, with a darker edge, the bright green of his eyes nearly swallowed by the black as he leaned down, stopped a hairs breadth from kissing Sam.

“All those things you like me to do… with those blades in the closet… cold metal on sensitive skin..”

He shuddered, hands coming down to Dean’s thighs to grip tight, eyes falling shut as hot breath fanned his ear, voice a velvet purr.

“I-I-“

“Taking you apart at the seams, making you beg me for it…”

A hot ache was starting low in his belly as Dean rolled his hips, ripped a strangled sound from his throat.

“You want me to do that again Sammy?”

“ _Dean_ -“

He was an inch from caving, breath hissing out, when the door slammed open. Dean shot straight up, whipping around to look only to disappear. Sam was left speechless, staring at the place he had been moments before, hair fluttering around his shoulders from the wind of his passing. Then he focused on the hand in front of his face, heard the crash and thump, and then all he could see was disheveled dark hair and wide, worried blue eyes.

“Sam, are you alright?”

“ _Wh-what_?”

Castiel’s hands landed on his shoulders, and he was being shaken almost, peered at and looked all over like he was some weird lab specimen.

“Are you okay-“

The question cut off as Castiel heard Dean moving and whirled to point an accusing finger at him. Dean pushed out from under an overturned clothes rack, rubbing his head and scowling.

“What the fuck Cas!”

“That is what I would like to inquire! How could you scare him like that?”

Dean’s jaw dropped open, and Sam stared agog at the man in front of him, righteously angry on _his_ behalf, and felt it crawling up his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth, trying desperately to hold it in as Dean’s eye began to twitch.

“Have you lost your damn mind!?”

When Dean roared at him, shoving to his feet, Castiel bristled, seeming to swell larger than he was.

“I had wondered the same thing of you! How could you do that to him when you profess to love him?!”

At that Dean floundered, and looked at Sam, who was turning purple, and flailed a wild gesture.

“Damnit Sam help me out here! Tell him its okay! We do this shit all the time!!”

Castiel whipped around to look at him, narrowed gaze shooting sparks, but it seemed to bank a little at Sam’s expression. Barely.

“Is he… telling the truth Sam?”

“H-he is sort of –“

“ _Hey!!_ ”

“I mean like… normally I get _some_ sort of warning or _something_ but it’s not that unusual..”

Sam prided himself on the fact that he had said that and never let the laughter out. Gods help him.

Castiel stared at him a moment, then turned to glare at Dean again.

“Then you should warn him next time Dean. That is highly unsafe for you to do!”

“What the-“

“If I see you being like that towards him again, without his express permission and knowledge, I will... I will…”

Dean straightened, crossed his arms, and rolled his shoulders, lip curled, sneering.

“You’ll what?”

Castiel stared at him a moment and dropped his voice to a threatening rumble.

“I will turn you over my knee and make you regret it!”

Dean froze, eyes slowly growing to the size of saucers as his cheeks colored. Sam felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach, and was suddenly, ridiculously, hot under the collar at the mental image.  Even Dean’s voice came out a little weak after that.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare to even tr-“

“Do not test me, Dean.”

The staring contest continued for another full minute before Castiel broke away to look at Sam again in concern, abruptly deflating as if nothing had ever happened.

“I will bring you a drink Sam. Do you require anything else?”

“I – no Cas m’fine I promise I –“

“Then I will be right back.”

The man spun on his heel and was gone before Sam could explain that he had meant he was fine and didn’t need the drink, but he was starting to think he would after all. Dean lurched forward a step then stopped, tearing his eyes away from the open doorway to glance at Sam. His eyes were still blown, and he shuddered, licking his lips.

“I… he said… and you… but…”

Sam just shook his head, swallowing harshly. He didn’t have any words for it either, but he knew he damn well nearly wanted to get Dean in trouble just to watch what happened.

And maybe video it.

When Dean cleared his throat and straightened, roughing a hand over his face before turning to straighten up the clothes rack he had knocked over, obviously flustered, Sam thought quite seriously about it.

He would _definitely_ video it, too.

 

At the end of the night, when everything was over, all cleaned up and the lights down, the dancers sat around the bar and talked together. Charlie sat on the bar in the middle of it all, laughing with the rest, but most of all at Dean. The man was curled up by Sam, halfway sprawled on him, pouting and grumbling. Sam was holding an ice pack in one hand, pressed against Dean’s lower back where he had landed earlier after Castiel had shoved him.

Sam had told the story only moments before, sending them all into fits of laughter. Castiel just shuffled anxiously at the attention, looking torn between embarrassed and smite worthy once again, cutting his eyes toward Dean who reddened and muttered obscenities towards both Sam and Castiel. Sam just held the ice where Dean told him he was sore from his landing and rumbled a laugh.

When the others turned their attention away, Sam smothered a sudden yelp and looked down at Dean with a hiss.

“T’hell dude?”

Dean had to open his mouth, letting go of Sam where he had sunk his teeth into the meat on the swell of his chest. “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, except when it’s _me_ you’re terrorizing!”

Dean pouted, glaring up at him in mock betrayal, and Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m holding the damned ice for you, aren’t I?”

 

 

_ Meanwhile, across town… _

 

Neon lights flashed in the late night, bright enough that they overpowered the meager streetlights that were left, what few remained unbroken by those who normally walked the streets. On the crumbling sidewalks people moved here and there, thugs and insomniacs, groups laughing uproariously as they tried to get home after full nights of partying and drinking, the few here and there that walked with hoods pulled up and hands shoved in pockets, stalking those groups for one to lag behind, pickpockets and thieves aplenty in the shadows, and those individuals dressed in brightly colored, skimpy clothing with too much perfume or cologne and makeup that had begun to smear and crack in the late hours of the night as they cat called strangers.

Gabriel ignored all of this, hand in the pocket of his green jacket, head up, shoulders back, stride loose and rolling, eyes everywhere, but never one place too long. He had been on these streets too many times, both in its gutters and in places between.

His boots clicked against the concrete and those few who met his golden gaze tore theirs away quick enough, fearful of the shorter man who exuded far more presence than he seemed to at first glance. The air was hot here, humid, filled with its usual reek of disgusting scents and the sounds of the few clubs here on street level that pumped music into the air loud enough to thump through the ground beneath his feet.

He passed another street corner, went a few doors down, and stopped at an alleyway that was wider than the rest, vaguely cleaner without the dumpsters stacked with trash, and topped with a neon sign that stayed a flickering red like flames. Gabriel found himself sneering at the sign before walking underneath, passing the wrought iron fence and taking the stairs down. The red door, just as familiar as it always was, still stood taller than him, reinforced with iron beams across it, closed to everyone.

He knew it was after hours, nearly four in the morning, but that was why he had come when he did.

Gabriel raised a fist and banged it against the door six times, then stepped back to wait. Minutes ticked by, and he huffed, leaning forward to rap the door again. There was an answering yell from inside this time, and he paused, satisfied when the small eye hole slid open and a pair of black eyes glared out at him.

“The club is clo-… _you._ ”

His smile was bright, sharp edged, and never wavered when the slot slammed closed and locked turned. The door was opened halfway to reveal a woman near his height, with waist length black hair, olive skin, and wide dark eyes. She gave him a simpering smile, mocking, hateful.

“What do you want _Gabriel_?”

“I need to see him, _Ruby_.”

She curled her lip, leaning against the doorframe to cross her arms. “Oh, really? And why would I-“

His face fell, the jovial mask, however thin, melted away, to reveal an expression that was stone cold, tinged with the beginning heat of anger. It made her hesitate, but she squared her shoulders, and opened her mouth again as if deciding to be suicidal. He took a single step forward, rotated his right wrist, knew she saw the flicker of light off a metal blade.

“If I had come to flirt with his biggest fan bitch I wouldn’t mind, but I came to talk to _him_. I’ve got shit to do, so either let me in, or I will let myself in.”

She hesitated, then huffed at him, turning to flounce off as though she had made the choice on her own, throwing up a hand as she sauntered off. He tucked the blade back in his pocket with a flick of his fingers.

“Whatever. You know the way then.”

With her gone the hallway felt warmer already, despite most of the lights being off and only one or two left to illuminate the darkly painted entrance. He heaved in a deep breath, reminded himself why he was here, and stepped in, shutting the door and locking it behind himself. He wanted to just leave, or have just called to talk to him like Balthazar had suggested, but he needed to _see_ him. To watch his face when he asked the questions. Years of practice had taught him the finer arts of looking through the usual facade, at the smallest of twitches that most people wouldn’t notice, but that he knew too well.

So instead of leaving, he strode down the hallway, rolled his left shoulder a little when it throbbed dully at him, reminding him of the sling as if he needed it; he knew good and well he was here half crippled. It made him jumpy as he slipped out into the quiet room with the same old stage, the long bar, ever filthy and sticky, the decorations tacky and done up to look like a bejeweled version of hell.

The rush of memories, desperate, half alive, fuzzy through the veil of coke and heroine, swept up to try and choke him, but he shook them off firmly. He thought of his friends, his _real_ ones that had helped him, pulled him from those depths and given him a ledge to stand on. Before he knew it, face still set into the lines of stone he had used to stare down that horror story from his past moments ago, he was standing at the door he needed. It was still painted a flashy red, bright gold star proclaiming who the dressing room belonged to hanging just higher than his head. His nostrils flared at the smells, ears almost twitching to hear some sound other than the oppressive silence that had swallowed up his steps since he had stepped out of the main room, and thankfully, out of sight of the pole on the stage there. He raised a fist and rapped on the door, then shoved his hand back in his pocket and waited. It took a moment before there was finally some snarling from inside, a few thumps, and then the door clicked before swinging in. In it stood a shadowed figure, tall, imposing, with two great horns that curved up from his head amidst a tangle of spiked hair, wide shoulders and a lean waist. Blue eyes seemed to blaze out at him, furious and powerful, taking the breath from his lungs for just a heartbeat before the man shifted back a step upon seeing him.

The light that had been haloing him seemed to dim when he moved, allowing Gabriel to really see him then. Tanned skin, ice blue eyes with dark circles that was half makeup and half insomnia, golden spiked hair, a body just a touch too lean to be healthy in a large black robe, and black horns that curved out from his forehead. Gabriel raised an eyebrow at those, looking curiously at his brother, who reached up in reaction and sighed as his fingers danced over the ridged horns.

“Haven’t had the heart to rip them off yet. They suit me, don’t you think?”

Gabriel snorted, and followed as he stepped away from the door, seemingly unaffected by the fact that Gabriel had just shown up out of nowhere, and closed the door behind him. When he slumped into a chair, spinning it to watch Gabriel walk further in, he steepled his fingers, raising a curious brow.

“So, to what do I owe this visit? Come to try and recruit me to the light again, little brother?”

At that, Gabriel relaxed his shoulders, letting out a little of the tension he had held this entire time.

“No. I came for your help.”

At that, his brother leaned forward, eyes widening minutely in slight interest, voice a low purr.

“And what, pray tell, would that entail? What have you done?”

Despite their differences, Gabriel had always looked up to his brother with some hero worship until recent years, and there was a pang somewhere around his heart at the picture in front of him. No matter how long he stayed here, beneath the streets, he always moved with the same lethal grace, talked with the educated culture of the many schools their parents had provided them, did everything with the poise of a king interacting with peasants. His brother had almost become his namesake here though, more like a snake than the lion he had been compared to in the past.

“Lucifer… have you heard from Castiel?”

The seriousness of his tone made it clear this was no joke or light question. Lucifer’s face actually creased a bit with shock, lips parting. He leaned back slowly, hooked one leg over the other knee, and twined his fingers together again without taking his eyes off his brother.

“Now Gabriel… you know as well as I that our _perfect_ little brother would never anger mother dearest by trying to get straight in touch with me himself.”

“That was pretty carefully worded Luci.”

A smirk played over his lips, and he looked away, over to his mirror. “It depends on who you are asking for.”

This time Gabriel growled, taking a step forward. “ _Me._ ”

Lucifer smiled a little, the barest hint of his lips curving at one corner. “Then, in a sense, I have. You know Anaiel has always called so often to check on us both. The past few times she has mentioned that things were… no longer as quiet as they were before with Michael out of the nest. Castiel was there with her the past few times she called, asking questions.”

He cut his eyes towards Gabriel, glittering with something dark. “Getting answers he did not wish to hear I am sure.”

Gabriel scowled, reining it in as he counted to ten, then twenty, in his head.

“Of course. He was always the most sheltered of us…” Deep breath. “So, when was the last time you heard from him?”

Those eyes sharpened on him like lasers, suddenly filled with an edge of danger.

“Gabriel… why do you ask me these questions? Where is our little brother?”

When Gabriel hesitated, Lucifer shot out of his chair. Before he could react, his brother was looming over him, one hand curled around the base of his throat, deceptively gentle, face carved from granite, eyes blazing with fury.

“I am not hearing an answer that I wish to hear…”

“He ran away.”

Lucifer froze, and Gabriel swore cold seemed to be creeping in from the corners of the room, freezing him in place.  His brothers temper was legendary, and he had rarely been on the wrong end of it.

His shirt creaked when the fist tightened, pulling him to his tiptoes.

“ _Tell me._ ”

So, he did.

By the time he was done, starting with the phone call from his mother and the subsequent phone calls and small investigation he had begun, which had yielded nothing but more than two week old sightings, Lucifer had seemed to calm somewhat. Gabriel waited, almost holding his breath as Lucifer finally released him and stepped back, brow creased in thought.

“I have not seen him, nor heard from him… but I will find out.”

He could only give a jerky nod in response, reaching up to smooth his shirt down and shrug it back into place. For a moment he had forgotten his shoulder, and he winced, putting it still again. Lucifer zeroed in on the movement, frowning as if he had just noticed.

“What happened?”

“Just a training accident. Trying to learn some new moves, y’know? It’s nothing, almost healed.”

Lucifer stared hard at him a moment before relenting, and settled back into his chair.

“So, you think he was headed here to one of us as well…”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Gabriel nodded. “He seemed to be headed this way per the few reports of him passing. Mother thought so too, but I figured she was just trying her usual guilt tripping shit.”

Lucifer snorted in amusement. “It would not surprise me.”

They stood there a moment, in companionable silence, before Gabriel turned towards the door.

“Well.. I have a few more spots to visit before I can go home and sleep so…”

He paused at the door, heard his brother murmur some kind of agreement, and was surprised when Lucifer walked him out all the way to the exit, opening the door to see sunlight just beginning to peek over the sky.

“If I find something… I will call you Gabriel.”

He nodded, pausing with one foot on the steps, to look back at his brother, standing half in shadow, eyes bright and almost gentle in the dawn light.

“Thank you... I’ll call you if I find him first.”

Lucifer gave a curt nod, glancing back inside at a hushed whisper of movement, then returned his gaze to his brother. As the door started to swing in, Gabriel raised a hand, causing him to pause, one eyebrow raising curiously.

“About that recruitment offer…”

Lucifer’s smile, as barely there as it was, made Gabriel’s heart clench at the sadness in it, and the bitter tinge to it.

“Be safe going home little brother.”

As the door closed, Gabriel sighed. No matter how many times he asked the question, and had the same negative response, it still ached a little, like turning the blade a little farther. But he wouldn’t stop giving the offer, he still had hope.

He had to.

 

 

Back inside, Lucifer paused, eyes narrowing on the man who stepped forth from the shadows. Skin pale, eyes sunken, almost yellow, smile like a shark and much more cruel, voice a sibilant hiss in the dark.

“Is there a problem, Lucifer?”

Shoulders back, he sneered at the man, and strode on by as if he didn’t mind giving the vicious man his back.

“No Alistair, and it would be none of your damned business if there were.”

He ignored the laughter that slithered through the hallway after him, and the form of Ruby hovering by his elbow in the doorway he had come through, half obscured by the curtain.  

Maybe one day he might could take his brothers offer, but not yet.

When Lucifer reached his room, locked his door behind him, and sat down, he stared at himself in the mirror, frowning. He reached up with tentative fingers to touch the few red spots that he was beginning to see peek out from the makeup hiding them near his hairline, and those at his collar. With a shake of his head he leaned to the side and pulled his phone out of the drawer, fingers dancing across the screen.

He had a few feelers to put out before he could go back to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that same night, Castiel stayed over at Sam and Dean’s house. He had not quite decided what he would be doing for a permanent living arrangement yet, and Charlie had told him he needed to be in no hurry, prompting him to decide on his own time; until then he could stay in her large home. Sam and Dean also invited him over, and after the first time, it seemed like it would become a recurring thing; they had good fun together, even if some of it was at Castiel and his constant confusion upon missing their pop culture references. He was weirdly pleased when the two promised to catch him up on everything he had missed, and then argued over where to start. 

Even though his current life, and good luck, thrummed through his chest with a content hum every time he stopped very long to think about it, there was another shadow in that same heartbeat that ached as well.

He missed his family.

Well, that wasn’t quite true, he told himself, he missed _certain_ members of his family, and vaguely missed one other, but could afford no lost sentiment to the rest. He did feel guilty that he had not spoken to those few cherished people in nearing three weeks, and wondered, idly, how they were.

The window he sat in was starting to fill with morning light, sending the boys’ kitchen aglow with golden rays that made everything surreal. He was surprised to find he was already starting to adjust to this different schedule in a way, after all, he had always had trouble sleeping. The crevices under his blue eyes bespoke that fact, but the times these people slept, and how long they sometimes went without sleep in between, seemed to be suiting him pretty well. He could stay up long times and sleep hard when he finally went to bed.

It kept him from some of his dreams.

Castiel sat back, his short, carefully filed nails tapping against his mug. Steam lifted from the cup, curling around him with the familiar scent of hot chocolate, a sweet he had learned how to make many years ago for one of his older brothers who had a terrible sweet tooth. The thought brought that pang of guilt to him again, as well as something like a feeling of homesickness. It wasn’t quite, because he would rather be anywhere than there, but it was more the missing of the companionship of those he cared for. His new friends were quickly becoming very important, but it was a familiar thing that he missed.

He shifted in his seat then, long fingers reaching into the pocket of his flannel pajama pants, tugging out the small, black flip phone that Sam and Dean had purchased him earlier. Sam had assured him it was nearly indestructible, with a tracker on it so they could find it if he lost it, and simple enough that he could work it. Castiel knew it hadn’t been meant with malice behind it, grateful Sam understood that while he was more than intelligent enough to work such things, he had no care to, nor to explore the internet on his phone with all the functions and intricacies that a ‘smart phone’ like Sam or Deans had. He liked this ‘ancient dinosaur’ phone, as Dean as so affectionately referred to it.

He flipped it open, eyeing the background as he curled his legs under him and took another sip of his drink. The picture made his lips curve up at the edges. Sam had insisted that he needed something that ‘made the phone _his_ ’, and so had cornered a person walking by to stop and take a picture for them. It had Castiel in the middle, a little red at the attention, Dean on the left with his arm around Castiel’s shoulders, and Sam on his right, arm overlapping Deans. It made Castiel look almost small, sandwiched between the two larger men who had pinned him in place with a strong squeeze, Dean’s brilliantly happy shout of ‘cheeseburgers!!’ making Castiel bark out a laugh seconds before the picture was taken.

Castiel found he truly liked the picture.

He gently pushed the buttons, watched it light up green, and pull up his contacts. Right now he had but a few, which Sam had fixed in for him; Dean, Sam, and Charlie. They had challenged him and said while they knew the numbers of the others, they were making him get the numbers himself so that he would have to talk to them, and maybe lose a bit of his shyness. He’d sniffed at Dean and told him to just wait and see, he would get _every ones_ phone numbers.

It still made him want to laugh a little, glancing outside at the hushed world that seemed suspended there, on the brink between night and day, when the sun chased the shadows of the night before, and all the people of the night were either in bed or slinking hurriedly to cover. The birds were not yet chirping, no music filtered in, and even the few sounds of passing cars seemed distant and muted. He looked back at the phone, pressed a few more buttons, and punched in a number that wasn’t in his address book. He stared at the numbers a few moments, heart beating a little faster, thumb hovering over the tiny green picture of a phone in a circle.

“Cas..?”

The gravelly voice made him jerk up, nearly leaping out of the chair to see Dean standing in the doorway, underwear low on his hips and hair tousled, flat in one spot and red marks from his pillow on one cheek. He reached up to scratch his belly absently, nails scritching over tanned skin that was sprinkled with freckles, eyes peering blearily at Castiel as if he weren’t quite sure he was not dreaming. Castiel forced himself to relax again, and pointedly not stare at the other mans very bare chest.

Or the tattoo on his left collar.

“Yes, Dean?”

“What’chou doin’ up man?”

Castiel hesitated only a moment before draining the last of his cup and pushing to his feet, shuffling over to set it delicately in the sink and turn back. Dean was still squinting at him in sleepy concern, making something in Castiel’s stomach do a long, slow turn.

“I… just awoke and thought to get a drink to help me return to sleep.”

Dean blinked, slow enough that Castiel noticed one side blink just a little off from the other as if the man were still not truly awake. It made it a little hard to keep a straight face, until Dean cleared his throat and that green gaze softened a little.

“Bad dreams, huh?”

Castiel flinched before he could hide it, more than a little surprised at the depth of perception, so Dean just nodded, stepping forward and reaching out.

“C’mon.”

“W-where?”

Castiel stumbled forward when Dean tugged, surprised to find him so strong in his seeming half aware state, but followed once he regained his footing. They padded through the house on silent feet until Castiel could hear the soft sounds of music playing; something he knew was that classic rock Dean liked. Then he was pushing open the door to Sam’s bedroom, and Castiel was trying to dig his heels in, hissing like a scalded cat while trying to stop the other man.

“ _Dean! Dean do not wake him up! It was-_ “

Dean shushed him, and in his shock he let him pull him the rest of the way in without protest, shutting the door behind them and swallowing them in the semi dark. He half stumbled, half followed as Dean pulled him toward the sound of even breathing which cut off with a sudden grunt and a half curious rumble after a thunk of sound. Castiel’s eyes finally adjusted to the room, all dark save for the green glow from the radio, which continued to croon something from its speakers. He could see Sam then, lifting up on his elbow on the ridiculously large bed, sheets messy and long limbs splayed carelessly. Dean poked one of Sam’s calves, which made him squeak and jerk his legs up as Dean proceeded to begin _climbing_ onto the bed, which was surely high as Castiel’s hips, muttering the whole time, in a voice that was slurring with sleep even thicker than before.

“Cas had a bad dream-“

“Oh! S’okay?”

“Ah – y-yes Sam I am fine, Dean is.. ah…”

“C’mon!”

Castiel cut off with a gasp as Dean tugged his hand, sent him bouncing off the side of the bed where he caught himself and stared at them incredulously. _Surely he did not mean…_

“Dean I do not understand what-“

“C’mon… back t’sleep… s’okay.”

Sam was propped up on both elbows now, blinking slowly at Castiel, who was trembling, wild eyed and near panic as he tugged against the hold. It was not that he did not appreciate the thought but what if they woke up and did not remember inviting him here? This was – they were –but what if they were mad when they woke up to find him here and-

Dean huffed and dropped his hold to clamber the rest of the way up, and nudged Sam again with a plaintive whine. “ _Saaam_ help him.”

Sam jerked then, as if having forgot himself, and reached forward before Castiel could react with a protest that he didn’t _need_ help. Two large hands grabbed him and hauled him up and over as if he were a child, or a stray puppy, dropping him easily between the two men. Castiel sat perfectly straight and knew his face would be red enough to light the way back to the kitchen in just a moment, because both men were moving around a bit then, and both slept in their boxer shorts. He couldn’t quite catch Dean’s murmurs, or Sam’s rumble of agreement for any real words, but they tugged at him to get him to lie down, plastering him between two sets of sleep warm skin and sheets that smelled of musk and something fresh and clean. _It really was somehow comforting_ , he thought, easing back a little at their insistence. Since he was obviously wavering they tugged a bit more, slid the ridiculously soft blank up over all of them, and began to get comfortable, letting him slowly relax on his own. He recognized the gesture for what it was, waiting on his permission to be _sure_  he was alright with it, and something about that amidst their apparent concern touched him, made that ache he had been so caught up with before feel… better. So after a moment he let out a long sigh, dropped his voice to match their softer ones.

“Okay...”

At his acquiescence, they wound around him, limbs sprawling everywhere, so finally he sank down into the warmth, turning his face once to see Sam who gave him a lopsided, sleepy smile and patted a large consoling hand against his chest before burrowing back into his pillow, then over to Dean, who blinked an emerald gaze at him, somber and darker than he thought it should be. Another hand rubbed a soothing circle against his hip, the hand smaller, surely Dean’s, prompting him to relax more while Dean murmured to him again, softer than before.

“S’okay Cas… we all have bad dreams sometimes… you’re good here.”

A sudden lump formed in his throat, lodging itself there and making it difficult to breathe for a moment. Castiel finally nodded, and Dean’s eyes slipped shut before he mirrored Sam’s movements. It took him a few more moments before he could, but finally he melted into the mattress, limp and comfortable, eyes tracing the dusting of freckles and curling lashes across that other face. Both men seemed to recognize the moment he completely relaxed, as they both mumbled encouragingly and scooted closer, wrapping tighter around him. He held his breath for a long minute before letting it all out in a long breath, suddenly, irrationally, glad for their existence as sleep turned the edges of his world fuzzy.

Long forgotten, his phone lay on the table in the kitchen, already dimmed from its previous glow.

He supposed he _could_ call Gabriel later, after some sleep.

 

 

Sam would admit to some bleary confusion upon waking to find an unfamiliar scent in his bed, along with a set of different limbs than what was normally tangled with his. He stretched a little, slow and lazy, blinking into the mostly dark, and _there_ was familiar skin. He and Dean were wrapped around….?

Sam snuffled closer to the man, who smelled of cotton and some vanilla and spice scented soap. It rang a familiar bell, and despite casting his mind back, he just couldn’t remember at the moment. He knew they hadn’t been drinking, and he was…. _relatively_ certain he had come to bed alone. But there was a long, lean body mixed in with his that smelled pretty damned good, making him reach down and adjust himself against the thin barrier of his boxers which wasn’t doing much to keep him contained at the moment. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, after all, he and Dean invited others to their beds all the time.

Sam just usually didn’t wake up with a burst of amnesia.

Well… _fuck it_ , he thought.

With that he pushed up on his elbow, flattened his palm against the bare stomach beside him, and buried his face in the curve of that shoulder, felt the scratch of thin stubble against his ear before he pressed his lips against the column of that throat. There was a surprised rumble of sound, the body giving a half aborted movement that implied sleep was still heavy over him, and Sam grinned against warm skin, rolled his hips against the thigh beside him, which registered that the guy was a good bit shorter than him but not by _too_ much, and scraped his teeth just a little bit more sudden than gentle over the pulse point that leaped under his lips. It brought that body to tense with a deep gasp of shock, and Sam threw his leg over the other mans, slid his thigh up until he felt the evidence of arousal that jumped against him, and chuckled, low and filthy.

“ _Sammy!!_ ”

At Dean’s sleep roughened voice, half shocked, half amused, and weirdly chastising, Sam raised his head up to look. It was then he saw Dean’s shit-eating grin, propped up to see him, as if he knew what was coming, and then flicked his gaze down to see Castiel, cheeks flushed a beautiful red, lips wet and parted on shallow breath, and those blue eyes blown wide enough to be nearly black. Oh, it was just- Oh.

_Oh-_

“ _CAS!?!”_

Sam yelped, letting go as if he had been burned, flailing up and back so hard he fell off the bed with a crash. The table upended beside him, and he took half the covers with him, tangled around his legs and keeping one of them at an awkward angle up on the bed while he hit the floor with a grunt and a teeth rattling gasp. Dean was already howling with laughter, utterly useless, but Castiel’s concern overshadowed his embarrassment as he shot up to look over the edge of the bed and scan over Sam with his gaze, half panicked.

“Sam! Sam are you alright?!”

There was a moment of silence, where Dean surely held his breath just to hear, and Sam just thumped his head back against the floor, dropping both hands over his face and letting out a long groan.

“Yeah. Yeah, m’fine…”

The laughter started again.

 

Finally, they gathered in the kitchen while Dean cooked breakfast, whistling as he puttered back and forth in a pair of faded jeans, completely unabashed despite the mornings’ happenings, but Sam sat bowed over the table with his head in his hands.

_He was such a fucking dumbass._ Because seriously? Yeah, like, he _totally_ wanted to actually seduce Cas, him and Dean both, likely together, but… the guy hadn’t been off the streets for two weeks yet. Even Sam wasn’t that messed up. He was their friend first and he wasn’t just going to use him.

Once he had disentangled himself, Dean had blessedly stepped in to help, shooing Castiel into a shower and shoving a change of clothes into his arms, then drug Sam down to the kitchen. He had then explained _why_ Castiel had been in their bed, which Sam did not mind at all, and now remembered with blurry details, though it didn’t make him feel better about what he did.

Worse, in fact, though Dean only shook the spatula at him, and clicked his tongue.

“Dude, seriously, he wasn’t mad. I mean, he wasn’t expecting it but….”

Sam lowered his hands just to glare at him, earning him that lopsided smirk he knew so well, and a wink. He just huffed and pressed his fingertips against his eyes. A set of soft footfalls caught his attention, and he shot to his feet as Castiel stepped into the kitchen, wearing a pair of his shorts, which fit him better now, and one of Sam’s older shirts, a worn, faded dark blue one. It made Sam shoot a halfhearted glare at Dean, who pretended not to see, then look back at Castiel, who hesitated in the doorway at his movement. Sam heaved a sigh and gestured at the other man.

“Look, Cas, m’sorry man, I didn’t mean to uh… y’know.. ah…”

Castiel stepped closer then, stopping across the table to peer at Sam, head cocked just so, hands loose at his sides. Dean was right, he didn’t seem mad or particularly offended, but Sam didn’t want him to think he couldn’t trust him. The silence stretched a moment, and Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Y’see I don’t… I mean… you trusted me and just… ”

“You did not realize it was me.”

Sam’s gaze snapped back up then, locking on those blue ones that were gazing at him quietly, as if in understanding. Something about that rankled up Sam’s spine, and he scowled.

“Yeah, but it’s not.. not that it was _you_ , it’s that.. I don’t _do_ anything like that when I haven’t been expressly invited.”

Dean went very still at the stove, and Castiel paused, blinking quickly in reaction as if his brain was catching up with him. Sam just looked down, away, cheeks darkening since he had revealed a bit more with that than he had meant too. Castiel, in his usual blunt way, which was the oddest thing as the man would be utterly straightforward about the strangest thing and yet other times seemed to fluster very easily, simply gave a slow nod.

“Oh. That makes sense. So it was not the idea of having come on to _me_ that upset you so, but that you thought you might have upset me by doing something I had not given you permission to do.”

Sam slumped, ridiculously relieved that he seemed to understand, and nodded. Castiel looked at the ground a moment, then nodded to himself, and sent Sam a very small smile.

“Well… it is fine Sam, neither of you did anything worth reproach. If it will be a few minutes more on breakfast, I am going to step outside and make a short phone call. I shall be right back.”

Sam grinned, pleased, and watched as Castiel picked his phone up off the table and walked out of the room. When he glanced over at Dean, he was staring after Castiel, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Sam frowned.

“Dude, what?”

“Did he just… did he imply it was okay to do it again?”

Sam hesitated, brow furrowing as he thought about it. “I… well… no I don’t… think… did he?”

Dean turned to look at him, and then Sam’s gaze narrowed. “Wait, he said either of us, what did _you_ do that I missed?”

Dean went pink and spun back around, voice going a bit higher. “Oh look – the bacon is going to burn! Is that a grease fire?! Sam get the fire extinguisher!”

“No you don’t – is it really?! No you – _damnit Dean!_ ”

 

 

Gabriel would admit, as far as his doctor was concerned, he lived a life that wasn’t completely healthy. True he was in very good shape, the doc always ooh’d and ahh’d over him and the supernaturally fast metabolism he had, which was what prompted him to eat so often, and crave sweets a lot for fuel, yet not to gain barely any fat. He was a little cut, nothing like Sam, he thought, but healthy enough, and his clients loved him.

So as the sun made its way into the sky, and none of his phone calls yielded any help whatsoever, Gabriel found he couldn’t blame his current condition on day to day health concerns. It was all his own doing.

He felt old, completely ancient, bones creaking under skin that seemed to stretch like dry parchment, aching, red rimmed eyes that told him he had not gotten enough sleep for too long. Even his brain was balking, making the world tilt ever so often or list slightly. He knew he should go to bed, but every time he thought he might, something stopped him; some vague answer, some bread crumb, some small hope that had yet to pan out. Five more minutes, he told himself, one more call, one more this or that – he _needed_ to sleep though…

But he _needed_ to find his little brother.

Gabriel dropped his forehead into his hands, bowing over the table he sat at, scattered with papers, notes, pens, candy wrappers, and his laptop. Everything listed again, making him take some slow deep breaths. So focused was he on not passing out that he nearly jumped out of his skin with a yelp as a hand descended on his shoulder.

“Gabriel, you must rest.”

The voice, cultured and vaguely british sounding, was hovering above him, normally sharp edged and sarcastic, always amused, but today it was filled with concern, soft and easier than normal. He wanted to refuse, again, but when he lifted his head to look at his friend, the words would not pass his lips. All he could do was heave a sigh, push himself up to stand on slightly weak knees, and nod.

“Good, come on then-“

They both froze as his cell phone began to ring, the sound piercing the otherwise quiet of his study. Balthazar snatched it up, frowning at the caller ID before laying it back down with a shake of his head.

“It’s just a number, no one you have stored. Come on you can call them back-“

“Yeah?”

The other man snorted, half in amusement, half in exasperation, having figured this would be Gabriel’s reaction. But instead of forcing him off the phone he simply crossed his arms and waited. Gabriel scowled as nothing came across the line but a rustle of fabric and an indrawn breath, and barked at the phone.

“ _Hello!_ ”

“Hello, brother…”

The soft, calm voice at the other end of the phone made his knees give, and he fell back into the chair suddenly, relief and anger and pride and happiness all banging around in his chest making his heart ache with it.

“Castiel…”

He could hear the little smile then, the quirk of lips that his little brother had gotten from Lucifer as he spoke, voice strong and steady, if a little uncertain.

“It is good to speak with you brother. How are you?”

Gabriel’s eyes fell shut against the burning there, reaching up to press his fingertips against his closed lids in an attempt to make them stop, his throat so tight it was making his voice come out a rasp.

“I – I’ve been better. Are you alright?”

There was a moment of hesitation, and he could hear the obvious confusion in the response.

“Of course I am alright Gabriel..”

His palm ached where he slapped it down on the desk in front of him, sending things clattering and flying off his desk in every direction, the sound like a clap of thunder as he shot to his feet and roared into the cell phone, face mottling red with the sudden burst of anger.

“ _THEN WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?!?_ ”

There was a short pause where Gabriel heaved for breath, completely ignoring the friend who stood at his side, wide eyed and concerned, listening to his little brother shuffle guiltily on the line.

“I am to assume that means you have spoken with mother or Anaiel…”

“OF COURSE I HAVE! SHE CALLED ME LOOKING FOR YOU! What have you done Castiel!? Where are you?! Are you safe?! Hurt?! Have you-“

“I am _fine_ brother… in fact I am better than I have ever been, I believe…”

Something about that popped his fury like an over inflated balloon, receding quickly enough that he fell back into his chair and stared straight ahead at nothing.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I… I found that I no longer could stay there, at ho-…. at that house. It is nothing but constant power plays, over built drama, and cold distance now. Without… without you and Lucifer there… it was … unacceptable.”

That hurt, Gabriel thought, but he wasn’t sure exactly how. Guilt, maybe, that he had left Castiel there, but also the pang of pride and happiness that his brother finally saw and understood him, and agreed?

“Castiel… I-“

“It is alright, there if nothing for you to apologize for. I simply wish that I had been able to go with you before, when you left after Lucifer… that I had understood then, or listened to you.”

When he closed his eyes, saw those streets, the memories that still threatened to choke him in the dark of night, the occasional itch at his fingertips for things he would no longer let himself have, and how _lucky_ he had been to run across those idiots he called his friends now that had pulled him out of - No.

“No, Castiel, that would have been a mistake. You were too young then, and it was… just no. Where are you though? Are you _really_ alright? Are you headed here?”

At that, Castiel seemed sheepish. “Well… I had been, yes, and I got lost, but my friends… one of them found me and helped me, and they have given me a job here. I serve drinks in a very nice place and –“

“You’ve already gotten a job? What about a place?”

“I am staying with them for now, I do not yet know what I will do about a place of my own… but I should be close to where you are, I am within your city-“

“ _You are?!_ ”

“Yes, though I did not realize it at first. It is such a large place… I wish to come visit you, we could catch up.”

“Of course Castiel! Do you remember what my address is?”

“I… do not.”

Gabriel found himself feeling stupidly relieved as he chuckled a little. “I’ll text it to you, so that you’ll have it saved and can’t forget it. You think you can navigate this city?”

He’d meant it teasingly, already smiling as Castiel sniffed at him. “Of course I can! And if I could not my new friend is very smart in such technological matters, Sa-“

Castiel cut off as a tiny voice spoke near him, making Gabriel perk up. Castiel murmured something back in agreement, then spoke again.

“We are going shopping, or something of the sort – I must go. I will speak with you again soon brother.”

“Yeah, take care of yourself little brother. I’ll see you soon.”

When the phone line went dead, Gabriel dropped his phone from nerveless fingers and dropped his head back, letting out a breathy laugh that was only a little strained.

“He’s in this town Balthazar. Found him some friends and a place, and even a job.”

Balthazar was quiet, standing at his elbow, waiting. Gabriel snorted.

“It looks like we all underestimated my little brother… I’ll be damned.”

He pushed to his feet, hesitated a moment, then picked his phone back up, fingers tapping at the screen.

“Before you start, I’m just texting Lucifer, then I’ll –“

“Absolutely not Gabriel, it’s been ‘one more thing’ or ‘five more minutes’ for three days! To bed with you! Then you can call your brother when you wake up! Come on now-“

“But Zee-“

“Off with you!”

 

 

Downtown, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had taken off for an impromptu shopping trip. Sam thought Castiel needed more things of his own that he had picked out freely, his own personal effects and clothing he could wear as he liked, and Dean agreed.

Although, as Sam watched Castiel peer intently, completely focused in his own little world, at the labels on every single bottle of shampoo and body wash to decide what he wanted, he realized this was going to take longer than he had originally planned. Sam had figured out quickly that Castiel liked the idea of using the organic things which were made by the companies which were against testing on animals and the like, and as soon as that had started, Dean had rambled off what he was going to look at himself and took off with a promise he would be back in a bit. Sam had just laughed, having known the other man wouldn’t stick around too long for things he considered so boring, and watched him flee to the safety of the music section.

When they got through with their first part of shopping, Sam helped Castiel check out, then wrangled Dean into helping, letting the two of them go on out to take those first bags to the impala by themselves so he could make a quick bathroom break.

Just before he stepped into the long hall that led to the bathrooms, Sam stopped, reaching to check his phone, eyes sweeping the area through the fringe of his hair. It was long habit, too many years of he and Dean running from things in the shadows, despite that this was a pretty good, normal neighborhood, and broad daylight. It had never stopped them before.

But when he saw nothing that seemed out of place, despite the itch at the back of his neck, he turned and continued on to the bathrooms. There were a few men coming out, some others going in, and Sam stepped inside easily, avoiding eye contact as usual as he glanced quickly around. Most of the urinals were taken, so he simply went to a stall, taking a moment as he closed the door behind himself to breathe through the small spike of adrenaline he’d had. Yeah, it happened sometimes, still, but it was less frequent now, which he was proud of.

He listened to the footsteps coming and going as the bathroom all but emptied out, and finally used the restroom quickly, flushing the toilet and stepping out of the stall only to freeze for a moment. By sound, he was alone in the bathroom, but there on the long countertop sat a man, one foot up on the marble while the other dangled back and forth, elbow across his bent knee. He wore a collared, blue button up shirt open over a teal green tshirt, blue jeans, and regular work boots. There was dirty blonde hair in unkempt spikes all over his head, a five o clock shadow over a strong jaw, pale skin, something akin to bruises under his eyes which spoke of ill sleeping habits or bad health, and eyes like glaciers, flat blue chips of ice that were looking directly at Sam, mildly curious in the way a bored tiger watches an antelope walk to the watering hole.

Sam blinked at the man a moment, but when his odd gaze never wavered, he only rolled his eyes and moved forward, washing his hands at the opposite end of the sink as if he didn’t care at all. And why should he? Just because some guy was apparently weird enough to just want to hang out in the public bathroom, didn’t mean it was his problem. Just as Sam ripped off a few paper towels to dry his hands the man spoke, voice a  steady purr, not too deep but with a hint of danger running through, again with that edge of something near amusement, almost like he was bored with it all, above everything, a King speaking to a peasant. It tipped Sam’s hackles, at the same time peaking his interest.

“I’ve seen you around.”

It made Sam go still, curious but wary as he looked at the man again, dropping the paper towels into the trash. Unassuming until you really looked at him, average by looks without a second glance, but really, he was oddly sensual looking, controlled. Sam found himself stupidly intrigued.

“Really? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

Pretty sure he would have remembered, Sam thought, and watched the other mans lips quirk just the tiniest bit in response as if he’d caught what Sam was thinking.

“You could say we have some mutual acquaintances. But now, we apparently have a new one.”

This sent Sam taking a wary stance, ready to defend himself, because there weren’t many people he was ‘acquainted with’, and the few implications that came to mind were rather scary. Already his mind was wheeling fast, the quickest way out, how to get to Dean, and –

A low huff of breath, akin to laughter, brought his focus back to the man, who was pushing off the countertop to stand, slipping one hand into his pocket, the other tunneling through his hair.

“You can stop panicking Sam, if I meant you harm, we would not be speaking right now.”

It made him bristle, which was apparent enough to make the other man actually smile in amusement, though the edges were a bit sharp, and he continued to talk anyway before Sam could spout anything back.

“You and your… friends have stumbled upon something that means a great deal to me. That mutual acquaintance speaks highly of you, and from what I see today… it may even be well earned.”

Still confused, Sam watched the man begin to saunter forward, a steady prowl that made the hair on the back of his neck ripple with alarm, and his heart beat a little faster at the same time. Both for entirely different reasons.

Sam could count on one hand the few people who had ever managed to make such an impression on him, wondering how somehow could make him think of how he might have to fight for his life within the next few minutes, and at the same time what this… _creature_ , would be like behind closed doors.

He couldn’t suppress the shiver that slid up his spine.

“So… I thought I could… pay my respects in a way, while also pointing out that should anything happen to change my opinion, well, I would certainly hate to have to do that. First impressions are important, and so far…”

The man paused, raked that gaze from Sam’s feet to the top of his head in a slow glide, then held his gaze again, leaving him feeling as if he had been dunked in a freezing pond as his muscles trembled.

“I’ll admit, you certainly leave one hell of one. Here.”

Back into motion, the man reached into the pocket of his shirt, gaze flicking away as he walked forward, leaving Sam to breathe a little better. Then he paused directly in front of Sam, bodies inches apart, even though he faced the door, right shoulder at Sam’s chest; it made him itch from head to toe like there was electric current attached to him. His arm swept up, wrist flicking lightening quick, leaving a small, black card right at the tip of Sam’s nose caught between two fingers. He went nearly cross eyed to see it, reaching up after a moments’ hesitation to pluck the card from the other mans grasp to see something handwritten across one side and the rest blank.

His attention was pulled back before he could read it though as the man began sauntering away, throwing up that very hand in a careless wave goodbye without looking. Sam opened his mouth, only to find words stuck in his throat, listening as the man spoke one last time, turning his head just far enough to fix his gaze on Sam with one eye as he opened the door a crack.

“If _you_ need me, call me anytime... As far as Castiel is concerned, he will call when he is ready on his own. I suggest he stay happy in the meantime. I’m putting a lot of faith in you Sam.”

For a few heartbeats, all he could do was gape, jerking his head in a shaky nod before he thought about it, and watch the man disappear. It hit him then, what the man had said, brain finally clicking back on and into gear, and he shot forward, lips forming a protest as he slapped the door open, bursting into the hallway. A few people farther away gave him an odd look but the crowds continued on, uncaring as he stood there, heart thundering against his ribs, looking around wildly, only to see no sign of the strange man. Nothing at all.

He looked down at the card clutched in a death grip, easing his hold before he ripped it, to see curling, elegant writing with a phone number and a name that had hysterical laughter wanting to bubble out of his throat.

_“Lucifer_.”


End file.
